


Jagged Edges

by Goldy



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Betty being a detective, Betty has no self-preservation instinct, Betty tries to deal with her PTSD - badly, Canon Compliant, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-10 20:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: Post S3. Following her father’s death, Betty Cooper leaves Riverdale and her friends and Jughead behind. Her plan is simple. Find a place, get a job, and try to heal. If only she could stop herself from investigating the first mystery that came knocking. COMPLETE.Veronica grabs her hand. “You know,” she says with a sad smile, “you’re not the only one who feels abandoned by their parents these days.”





	1. Chapter 1

Betty watches in silence as her father’s casket is lowered into the ground. As it turns out, even serial killers have funerals. Even Betty’s father, after everything he did, will get a box, a place in the ground, and a tombstone.

The tombstone will state, simply: “_Hal Cooper_.”

There is no date of birth, no date of death. No “survived by.” No platitudes about how Hal Cooper lived his life.

The weather is overcast and oppressively humid. It is not a big gathering. Her mother didn’t come. There’s no Polly, no twins – no second cousin once removed from out of town who they only see every five years at weddings and family gatherings.

There is just Betty and Jughead and then Archie and Veronica. Not even Kevin came for the funeral.

That’s fine with Betty. Hal Cooper’s life is not something to celebrate and his death is not to be mourned.

Betty knows all of this, but she still cries for him. The tears fall freely from her eyes, down her face, and off her chin. Jughead’s hand is on her back. Archie and Veronica hang back behind them. They can’t pretend to be sad. She knows her friends are only there to support her. She’s grateful, but….

But it still feels like a part of her is being lowered into the ground with her father.

“Do you want to say something?” Jughead whispers.

Betty shakes her head. What is there to say? Hal Cooper was a bad man – maybe the worst man that ever lived in Riverdale. And he was her father. No matter how long she lives, no matter where she ends up, Betty will never be able to escape that stain.

It starts to rain. Behind her, Veronica opens an umbrella and whispers: “Here, Archiekins – hold this…” and then, still quiet, but not quiet enough says: “Do you think it will be much longer?”

Jughead turns around, “_Guys_.”

Betty tilts her chin towards the sky and lets the rain land on her face. The rain feels nice – like a cool mist from a gushing waterfall on a hot summer day.

There is another reason why Betty doesn’t want to say anything. What her friends _can’t _know, what no one can know – not even Jughead – is that losing her father feels like losing the only person who knew about the dark, jagged edges buried inside of her.

She once thought that Chic was like her. And he was in a way – more than Charles is, her _actual _brother. But that’s not a surprise. Charles comes from the Jones’ line. The Jones men, Betty knows, don’t have _this _– this darkness, whatever it is, buried in them. Charles doesn’t have whatever it was that made Hal Cooper wrong.

Hal’s casket disappears into the ground. Her friends are silent. Jughead’s hand is still on her back. The rain patters down on the grass around them and the breeze whistles through the trees.

Finally, Veronica breaks the silence. “Betty, I think it’s time to go now.” She squelches through the ground and comes to a stop at Betty’s side. Her heels are stuck in the mud and she is holding up the hem of her dress to keep it from being splattered with mud and rain. She places a hand on Betty’s arm, “Why don’t we go to Pop’s? Get some milkshakes?”

Betty shakes her head. “You guys go. I’ll just….”

She’ll just what? Stay here, alone, next to her father’s dead body? Wait to get soaked through and then go…

_Home_.

But she doesn’t have one of those anymore. Her childhood home belongs to the Jones’ family now. She can stay there for as long as she likes, of course – FP doesn’t mind, and Jughead is happy to have her, but it is still not… hers.

Veronica exchanges a look with Archie and then with Jughead. “We’re not leaving you on your own, B. Not today. We can go somewhere else… Archie’s?”

Veronica looks hopeful. Archie’s house. A place Betty spent almost as much time growing up in as her own house.

“Yeah, Betty,” says Archie. “My mom went back to Chicago and my dad’s still away so we would have the place to ourselves.”

“That’s settled then,” says Veronica. She links her arm through Betty’s, drags her away from Jughead. “I say we order a pizza, mix some drinks, and watch a romantic comedy or two.” She calls over her shoulder, “What do you say, boys?”

Betty lets herself be pulled along although the thought of pizza and movies makes her stomach clench. She knows that Veronica is just trying to support her. Betty is grateful, but up until today, Veronica had been more focused on “reuniting” with Archie than she had been on Betty’s mental state. That had, frankly, been just fine with Betty – she _really _does not need to see all the spaces in the Andrews’ home that Archie and Veronica have “christened” since their reunion.

She looks at Jughead pleadingly, but he shrugs helplessly as if to say, “_What can be done_?”

Veronica pulls Betty forward, through the graveyard, and Jughead and Archie follow them, their shoes squishing in the muddy grass.

The rain is beginning to soak through Betty’s dress. The water feels cool and light on her skin. When they reach the parking lot, Betty forces Veronica to come to a stop. The parking lot is almost empty – all except two cars. Archie’s car, and a limousine she does not recognize. The limousine is idling, its wipers moving lazily back and forth with the rain. It looks like it has been waiting for them. 

Jughead suddenly appears on Betty’s other side, hand on her arm. “That wasn’t here earlier,” she whispers to him.  


“Are you serious?” says Veronica. “It’s a cemetery. Limousines come and go here all the time.”

“Not at this time of day,” says Jughead. He steps carefully in front of Betty and Veronica and turns his head to speak over his shoulder. “Besides, isn’t it clear by now that coincidences don’t happen to us?”

The rain picks up, crashing noisily in the trees above them. The limousine turns on its lights and begins to head towards them.

“Guys,” says Archie, in a low voice. “Maybe we should…”

Before he can finish, the limousine comes to a stop. The back window rolls down. Charles, Betty’s newly found, very much not dead brother, is sitting in the back, a relaxed smile on his face.

“Betty,” he says pleasantly. “I was hoping I might catch you here. May I have a word?”

Some of the tension leaves Jughead’s shoulders and he rubs his forehead before he gestures at Charles. “Have you just been… sitting here? Waiting for us to get back?”

Charles’ smile doesn’t dim. “Yes,” he says.

“How did you get the limousine?” says Betty.

“Who cares how he got the limousine,” says Veronica excitedly. “_You’re _Charles?” To Betty she says, “B, you didn’t tell me he was a _catch_. I knew Chic couldn’t be the product of your mother and FP.” She looks at Archie for support, “Didn’t I tell you that?”

“I mean…” Archie stammers, “Chic was….”

“Guys,” Jughead cuts in, “can you please not make this weird?”

“It’s not that weird,” Veronica says. “So you share a brother. It happens all the time on the Upper East Side.” Then to Charles, brightly, she says, “I’m Veronica Lodge. And this is Archie. I assume there is room for all of us in there?”

Veronica leans forward to peak in through the window of the limousine.

Charles’ charming smile never waivers. “Veronica, Archie, pleased to meet you. Unfortunately, I really need to speak with Betty on her own. Do you mind if I borrow her? I promise to return her safely back to you.”

“It’s okay, V,” Betty says, dislodging herself from Veronica’s grip. Veronica releases Betty reluctantly – more, Betty thinks, because she’s disappointed at being left out than out of real concern for Betty's safety.

Jughead steps forward, but Charles shakes his head. “Sorry, Jughead. Just need Betty for now. We’ll catch up soon.”

He winks – he _actually _winks. Betty has not seen anyone wink in a very long time – and, frankly, does not think that anyone other than Charles could even pull _off _a wink.

"He’s so _cool_," Archie whispers from behind her.

Betty sighs and looks at Jughead apologetically. “I’ll see you at home?”

He does not look happy about that prospect. “Okay,” he says. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will,” she says, and then she is opening the door to the limousine and Charles is sliding across the seats to the other side. A blast of cold air slams into her and her teeth chatter briefly before she pulls the door closed behind her. The limo is dark – its windows are tinted and there is a privacy screen that separates her and Charles from the driver.

Betty’s eyes take a few seconds to adjust. She folds her arms across her body, the air conditioning chilling the rain on her skin.

A part of her is grateful that she now has an excuse to get out of going to Archie's. But the last time she saw Charles, she learned that her mother was an undercover FBI agent and that Charles was the long-lost brother she shared with her boyfriend. She is not sure she wants whatever news he is bringing her this time.

“Betty, it’s good to see you again,” Charles says, stretching out in the seats. He is relaxed, chatty. Betty doesn’t understand how this can be so easy for him. Although if he _has _been secretly working with her mother for months now, he has had more time to adjust to the idea of his long-lost siblings than they have had to him.

“Same,” Betty murmurs. She glances around the limousine and then says, “What’s going on?”

“A few things,” Charles says, and she notices for the first time that he is holding a manila envelope. He pulls a paper from it and hands it to Betty.

She blinks down at it. “It’s a cheque,” she says dumbly.

“That’s all the money that your mother donated to the Farm. The Blossom money, your College fund, the savings account your father put away for you when you were born… all of it. Come on, Betty, you don’t think that the FBI would have just spent your money like that, do you? We needed to make it seem real for the Farm, but we always planned to give it back to you.”

Betty stares down at the cheque. It is a big number… a _really _big number. She opens her mouth to say “_thank you_” and then remembers that the FBI is the reason she lost her money in the first place. Instead she says, “What about that other thing I asked you about?”

Charles hesitates. “Betty, her plan is to come back to you.”

“That’s nice,” Betty says. “But she’s not here and she hasn’t been for a long time. And in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a father either.”

“I have an idea of what that’s like,” Charles whispers.

Betty looks him up and down – his suit is unrumpled, his fingers are steepled, and his mouth and face are calm. “You seem to be doing okay.”

A smile tugs at his mouth, but his eyes are sad. “I am doing fine. I had help along the way.”

“Then help _me_,” says Betty. “I know that my mother loves me, okay? I know that she did what she did to protect Polly and protect the twins. But she tried to get me to join them, Charles. She knew that they would drug me, that they would –” she pauses, remembers her mother telling her about MAOA and CHD13, the serial killer gene. “She let them lie to me,” Betty says instead. “What am I supposed to think?”

Charles sighs. “She was following our orders.”

“Maybe,” says Betty. “Maybe everything she did can be excused.” She pauses. “Or maybe a small part of her is relieved that I am out of her life now. She’s not responsible for me anymore. Anything I do now, anything I become, that’s on me.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw her reaction when I told her what you wanted from her.”

Betty folds the cheque in half and then carefully stores it in her purse. She closes the zipper and then turns to look at Charles. “Do you have it?” she asks.

He nods and opens the manila envelope. He pulls out a paper and hands it to her.

It is a legal emancipation form. Betty’s eyes dart over the legalese and form language and down to the end of the page. Her mother’s signature and date are at the bottom of it.

“Thank you,” she whispers. Her eyes are filling with tears. She hurriedly wipes them away with the back of her hand.

“Betty,” he says gently. “You can change your mind. I can take you to her. We can’t blow her cover, but we can take you into FBI custody. Meetings can be arranged.”

“I can’t just… disappear. Jug is here. And my friends.”

“Okay,” says Charles. “Let me at least take you home.”

_Home_. That word again.

“No,” she says. She sounds defensive. “I’ll walk.”

Charles arches his eyebrows. “I saw the heels that you’re wearing. You won’t get far in those. _And _it’s still raining. You don’t want to ruin the emancipation form your mother just signed.”

They eye each other. “Fine,” Betty says stiffly.

***

The drive to the Jones’ house does not take long, but their conversation is forced and awkward. When Charles drops her off, Betty murmurs a quick “_Bye_” and, clutching the emancipation form to her chest, scurries inside of the house.

She hurriedly stuffs the signed emancipation form into her purse before she goes looking for Jughead. She is not going to hide this from him. Not exactly. She just… needs more time to process things before she speaks to him about it.

She finds Jughead upstairs in her old bedroom. He is sitting on the bed, hunched over his laptop, brow furrowed as his fingers seem to aimlessly jab at the keyboard. She can tell he is only half-engaged with what he is writing. When he sees her, he immediately pushes the computer away.

“What did he want?” he asks.

“It was just about my mom,” says Betty. Partly true. “About the mission they have her on now. I can’t really get into the details.”

_Because you have no details, Cooper, and because you’re lying to him. _

She ignores the guilty feeling in her stomach and sits beside Jughead on the bed. “Sorry about abandoning you. Did Veronica try to drag you over to Archie’s for romantic comedies and pizza?”

A smile ghosts over his face. “Once you were out of the picture, Veronica could not get rid of me fast enough.”

“Well…” says Betty, “I can’t say I’m complaining if it means I get you all to myself.”

Jughead leans in closer to her, “I could tell that wasn’t top of your to do list.” Betty leans in all the way and presses her lips to his. Jughead’s hand cups her face, his fingers playing with the back of her neck. Betty leans into him to deepen the kiss but he pulls away, staring at her intently.

“What?” she says.

“Okay,” he says with some difficulty. “First, you need to know that I spend most of my days thinking about you. Second, and you might be surprised to learn this, but teenage boys tend to be driven by our hormones. So most of the time, I am thinking about the last time I saw you naked with a dash of wondering about the next time I am going to see you naked.”

Betty arches her eyebrows. She needs to know more about this. “And by ‘naked’ what you mean is –”

“-exactly what you think it means, Cooper. But… Betty, think about what you went through today. Is now the right time?”

She closes the distance between them, presses a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away. “Yes,” she says, holding his gaze.

That’s all he needs before he pulls her to him, his lips meeting hers, his hands roaming down her back. This is _exactly_ what she wants.

It’s almost enough to make her forget about the guilt twisting the insides of her stomach.

***

Jughead wakes up suddenly. It is the middle of the night, the room is pitch black, and his heart is pounding. Something is not right. He squints into the darkness of the room and reaches for Betty next to him… only for his hand to skim over empty air.

There is a rustling in the corner of the room. Jughead sits upright and blinks until his eyes adjust to the darkness. Finally he sees her – she’s crouched by the dresser, yanking clothes out of the drawers and piling them at her feet.

“Betty?” he croaks, voice hoarse with sleep.

The figure by the dresser freezes. “Jug, go back to sleep.”

“Are you serious?” he mutters and starts to pull the covers off him, but the Betty shaped blob near the dresser sighs and rises to her feet. As she approaches him, he can see that she’s carrying a shoulder bag. “What’s going on?”

“Jug,” she says, and her voice is hoarse like she has been crying. “I’m going away for a bit.”

His mind is spinning. It’s the middle of the night, it is very dark in the bedroom, and he has no clue what she is talking about. “What do you mean?”

“I need to leave,” she says, and she suddenly sounds desperate. “I can’t be here anymore, Jug. This is the house that my mother and father raised us in – me and Polly. And my father is the Black Hood and he’s _dead _and my mom… my mom is…”

Jughead throws the covers back and jumps to his feet. In two quick strides, he closes the distance between them and envelopes Betty in his arms. She presses her face to his bare chest, tears wet against his skin.

He had an inkling of this earlier – she’s been _off_ lately. Betty had always been good about keeping on a “game” face, but he _knew _she had been distant, knew that there was something going on inside of her that she wasn’t sharing with him.

“I don’t have a home anymore, Jug,” she whispers, and she sounds so _sad, _so helpless.

Jughead presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I love you so much,” she says, and her voice breaks. “But I can’t stay here anymore, Jug. I can’t. I need to get away.”

His heart is pounding. This feels crucial somehow – like when he broke up with her when he joined the Serpents. _Until it sticks_, he had said, choosing the words deliberately, knowing it would drive her away from him. Even as he had said the words, he knew he was _wrong_, knew he would be taking them back. He can’t make the same mistakes now.

He finds his voice. “Okay,” he says, “okay. Then we’ll leave Riverdale.” He thinks briefly of his Serpents – _they’ll be fine_ – and of his father – _he has Jellybean_ – and of Archie – _he has Veronica_. “Wherever you want, we’ll go.”

Betty has gone still in his arms, still and silent. He holds her, his heart pounding in his throat, his blood rushing through his ears. _Why isn’t she saying anything? What’s going on?_

Then she says, “Jug, no.”

This throws him and he takes a step back, releasing her. He tries to look into her eyes – tries to find out what’s _really _going on inside of her, but it is too dark in the room. He can barely make her out in front of him.

“What does that mean?”

“You have your dad, and Jellybean, and school… and the Serpents, Jug. I can’t ask you to leave them.”

“You didn’t ask.”

His voice sounds hard. He doesn’t mean to sounds so harsh. She’s still _grieving. _He is supposed to be understanding. He’s supposed to be –

“I need to do this on my own,” she whispers.

Time feels like it is coming to a stop. His heart is still pounding, but he feels like the rest of the world has disappeared somehow. It’s just him and Betty, in this room, in the dark.

“You’re not on your own.”

“Jug,” she says, and her voice cracks again. She looks down at her feet. “I need to go on my own.”

His head is spinning again – his _world _is spinning. “Betty, what…”

“I’m sorry.”

“You do not have to do this on your own,” he says and his voice sounds harsh again – or is that desperation? “Betty, I love you. The Serpents, JB, my dad… that doesn’t matter. I need _you_. Where you go, I go.”

A sob escapes her throat and she presses a hand to her lips. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. You have to let me do this.”

“Do _what_?” he croaks. He remembers once upon a time when he called her an “_enigma_.” Never has that seemed truer than now. “Betty?”

Suddenly her hands are on his face, her forehead is pressed against his. He feels her tears on his nose, on his cheeks. He wants to reach for her, wants to wrap his arms around her and never let go, but instead he is frozen, rooted to the floor.

“You need to let me go, Jug,” she whispers.

His throat is burning and his eyes are hot – those are his own tears, he realizes. She is not in her right mind - this is grief, this is loss… she doesn’t mean it, she would never do this to them. To him.

Her lips press against his, only once, and the kiss is dry and salty with her tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I hope you’ll wait for me, but…” her voice cracks, “I’ll understand if you don’t.”

Then she is pulling away and slinging her bag once again over her shoulder. She bends down over the piles of clothes she pulled from the dresser and shoves them into the bag.

His own tears spill down his cheeks. He feels like a hole has opened up inside of him and is eating him alive. “Were you even going to wake me up?”

She throws in a pair of jeans to her bag. “I don’t know.” The bag is over her shoulder and then she’s at the door, she’s _opening _the door. She looks over her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Betty –” he tries again, feebly, his tears blurring his vision.

The door closes behind her and he hears her footsteps move down the hall, down the stairs, through the living room. The front door opens and closes. He stays in his room, feet rooted to the floor, breathing in and out.

She doesn’t come back.


	2. Chapter 2

Betty left Riverdale with only the barest scraps of a plan. She went to the Riverdale bus station and bought a one-way ticket to Syracuse. She paid in cash. When she arrived in Syracuse, she paid for a night in a motel. She told herself to think about what to do next – not Jug, not her mother, and especially not her father. Just the next steps.

She needed to deposit the cheque Charles gave her. She needed a place to live. She needed a job.

The next day, she took another bus and travelled north. She finally disembarked in a town near the Canadian border. The town was once an important hub during the age of the railway, but now is dying a slow death.

Now she works as a waitress and barista in a coffee shop in the town centre. The couple who run the shop did not ask her too many questions. She gave them a fake name – Tammy. Tammy Andrews. A waitress name. Easy to spell.

The shop’s name is Screamin’ Beans. It opened because city officials were trying to “reclaim” the area. Screamin’ Beans is the only business on a street filled with stark apartment blocks and boarded up store fronts. The shop tries to sell something for everyone – gluten free muffins, dairy free lattes, vegan chili. The décor is supposed to be modern and airy. The shop has large windows, exposed beams in the ceiling, and USB ports at the tables for charging cell phone.

But the windows haven’t been cleaned in years. The glass is cloudy and spider webs line the corners and stills. The tables are cracked and uneven. Most of the USB plugs stopped working a long time ago. The advertisements in the windows say that all food is made in house – _based on family recipes _– but Betty knows that the food is shipped in Wednesday mornings and kept frozen in the back. In the evenings before she leaves, she carefully takes the next day’s supply out of the freezer to unthaw in the front display.

During the day, the café’s main patrons are retirees who pay for their drinks and food in coins and rumpled bills. The regulars sit for hours at the cracked tables, reading the paper and making unwelcome conversation with those who come in and out. They call Betty “dear” and ask her to count out their change for them.

There are also the young mothers – girls that are about Betty’s age, sometimes younger, with tattoos sneaking up their collar bones and piercings in their noses. They come in with their children tucked into rickety strollers and sit at the counters at the back. They order non-fat, soy lattes and organic, gluten free granola with yogurt.

The café starts selling alcohol at 4:00pm, and two-for-one happy hour is 4:00 to 6:00 pm during the week. But the busiest time of day is 5:00pm. That’s when the gang members show up.

She has been a Southside Serpent long enough to know the signs. They have matching fake leather jackets and a tattoo curling up their chest to their neck. The tattoo seems to be a dragon – she can see the scales of a green tail curling up their necks towards their chins.

Today is no different. When 5:00 hits, the bell to the entrance jangles. There are a group of them standing in the doorway. None of them are women. A hush comes over the café when they enter the shop. The retirees scramble to gather their purses and tote bags and leave in a hurry. Some of the young mothers leave as well – the rest stay. The ones who stay are probably the girlfriends.

Their leader’s name is Joe. He has messy dark hair and deep brown eyes. His jacket is battered, his jeans ripped at the knees. He is on the short side with muscled arms covered in black tattoos. The first time Betty saw him, he reminded her a little of Jughead.

That was a mistake. She had held his eyes a little too long – felt a smile twitching at the curve of her lips. Joe saw that as an invitation. Now he has taken a liking to her.

It’s a Thursday. The gang likes Thursdays. They fan out across the café, managing to take up almost every table. Old Ruth, who has been hanging around since early afternoon, hurriedly snatches her purse and makes for the exit. She leaves a half-drunk coffee mug with lipstick marks behind on the table.

Joe is the last one in the door. The other gang members claim seats and tables, but Joe saunters over to the counter. “Tammy,” he drawls. He leans over the counter, his face close enough to Betty that she can smell his after shave. He smells like the cologne section of an aging department store. “I’ve missed you,” he says. “I’m sure you noticed that we haven’t come by in a few days.”

“Has it been a few days?” she says, feigning surprise. “I've been, you know… just so busy.”

He isn’t deterred. “We have been busy too, Tammy. We need something to unwind.” He turns back to look at the rest of the gang. “What do you think, boys? A round of this place’s best whiskey?”

The other gang members hoot and cheer in response, but Betty only says, “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. We only have one kind of whiskey. If what you want is the good stuff, you won’t find it here.”

Joe returns his gaze to Betty. “Well, the company will more than make up for that.” He smiles, suddenly all modest charm. “We’ll take a round of your whiskey. Your only whiskey.”

Betty doesn’t smile back. “I need to see your ID.”

Joe dramatically puts a hand to his heart. “Moi?” he says, “ID? After all the many, _many _evenings that we have spent here?”

Betty taps the placard on the counter in front of her. It says, simply: _We card. That’s the law_. She says, “We card. That’s the law.”

Joe sighs and fishes around for his wallet. “You’re still new here, Tammy, so we’ll give you some time to catch on. But you should know, we don’t like to wait.” He doesn’t say it menacingly – in fact, he says it _flirtatiously_. Finally, he pulls out his wallet and hands her his license.

Although she has seen it before, she takes her time looking down at the picture, squinting back at Joe, and then looking for his date of birth back on the card. The picture is his and the license says he is 22. She suspects it’s a fake – she knows he’s older than her, but she doesn’t think he’s _that _much older. Still, she hands it back to him and then reaches down under the counter to get the whiskey.

“I can bring them to you,” Betty says.

“I’ll wait,” says Joe. “I’ll take any time with you I can get.”

He catches her eye and shoots her a charming smile that she is sure has worked on many other women. Betty ignores him – she pulls a handful of glasses out from under the countertop and begins to fill them with whiskey.

“We close at 8:00pm tonight,” Betty says. “No exceptions for you and your... friends.”

“We’ll clear out,” says Joe. He pauses. “You’ll be hungry after your shift.”

“I had a big lunch.”

“Still,” he says, “8:00 tonight. You’ll be hungry.” He pauses. “Come for dinner with me. We can go to my place.”

His voice is mild – polite, but she senses the danger in it. She has been around enough men like Joe in her life to know that he does not like the word “no.”

So she’s very careful when she says, “I can’t tonight. I have other plans.”

She sees him tense. “Plans… with who?”

That’s none of his business. But she only smiles blandly and says, “I tutor on Thursday nights.”

Joe shakes his head and holds her gaze. “So she’s smart, too,” he murmurs. “Smart _and _hot. The whole package.”

She hates the way he is looking at her. It makes her skin crawl, makes her want to leave this town back the way she came. But Betty has dealt with the Blossom family. She lived with the Black Hood. She does not back down easily.

“I’m at work,” she says with an edge in her voice.

“You work too hard, Tammy,” he says. “If you spend more time with me, you might find yourself working a little bit less.” Without more, he grabs a handful of the whiskey shots and turns back to the gang. “Boys,” he croons. “Drinks are on me tonight.”

****

As the clock ticks down to 8:00, the gang slowly filters out and Betty is left alone in the café. She dims the lights, hangs the “_We’re Closed_” sign in the window and starts to clean up.

It is not an easy clean up. The gang left dripping glasses on tables, crumbs on the floor, and sticky napkins rolled up on the chairs.

Betty is sweeping under the tables when there is a knock at the door. She looks over. It is dusk and there is still enough light for her to see the figure standing in the doorway. It’s a boy – or a teenager – maybe 13 or 14 years old. He is wearing a long dark blue t-shirt that is two sizes too big for him. The t-shirt hangs down just above his knees. He has a baseball cap pulled down tight over his ears.

Betty sets the broom down and goes to the door. She unlocks the bolt, but leaves the latch on the door. She opens it an inch.

“Can I help you?”

The boy peers at her through the crack in the door. His eyes dart from her face and then he angles his head as if trying to see into the café behind her. “Yes. Maybe. I hope so. Are you alone?”

“Wrong thing to say, kid,” Betty says and starts to shut the door. But the boy whips off his cap and clutches it in his hands. His hair is sweaty and clings to the top of his forehead. His eyes widen pleadingly.

“Please,” he says. “My friend Sacha says that his friend Sammy has a cousin, her name is Ethel, Ethel Muggs, and she goes to school with you. Betty Cooper, right?”

Betty pauses. “You know Ethel?”

The boy shifts uncomfortably and then glances furtively around him as though worried someone might be eavesdropping. “_I _don’t know Ethel,” he says defensively. “My friend Sacha knows Sammy whose cousin is – ”

“Okay,” says Betty, putting up a hand. “I don’t need the run down again. And, yes, you can come in.”

Betty unlatches and opens the door. The boy hurriedly steps through, shutting the door behind him and looking immensely relieved.

“Good, thanks,” he stammers. “Sammy says that Ethel told him, if something strange is going on then there’s nobody better than to have Betty Cooper on the case and lucky for us, Betty Cooper happens to live in here now. Sammy would have come himself except that….” he trails off, his eyes landing on Betty’s nametag. “Who is Tammy Andrews?”

Betty sighs. “That’s me. That’s what I want to be called now.”

He blinks and some of his enthusiasm fades. “Oh,” he says. He looks around the café, suddenly seeming helpless.

“I can still help,” Betty says reassuringly. She points to one of the tables that is – mostly – clean. “Sit. Start with your name.”

“Brian,” says the kid. They sit. Brain looks small and nervous in his chair. His t-shirt looks even larger on him now that he is seated. He sets his baseball cap on the table and then tries to smooth down his hair with his fingertips. “I just turned 14,” he says. “I’m starting high school in a couple months. I don’t if you noticed or not, Betty – Tammy, whatever your name is – but this town isn’t exactly the nicest place in New York state.”

“I’ve seen worse,” says Betty.

“Hard to believe,” says Brian. He picks up his cap from the table and turns it over in his hands. “My plan is to go to college someday, Tammy. That’s been my plan ever since I was young. I’d be the first person in my family to do that – at least, as far as I know. My dad walked out when I was small so I don’t know about his family. But my mom and her brothers didn’t go to college. So that’s the plan. To be the first one to go. Make them proud.”

“Well, if you work hard and keep up your grades…”

“That’s just the thing, Tammy,” says Brian. “Kids don’t come out of high school in this town and go to college. It just doesn’t happen. And now… well, it’s only gotten worse since _they _graduated from high school and decided to stick around.”

“They?” says Betty although she’s pretty sure who he is talking about.

“Joe and his… _thugs_,” says Brian. “I was trying to tell you earlier about Sammy. See, Sammy’s older brother got mixed up into something the last school year. Drugs and alcohol, that kind of thing. Nothing hard though. He knew there was a line. Anyway, this gang, they’ve got a new product on the market. They’re cutting it into all their drugs. Supposed to be addictive as hell and cheaper to make – so of course they want to peddle it.”

“I’m sorry,” says Betty. “Is Sammy… is his brother alright?”

Brian shakes his head. “The thing about this new drug… well, it’s like anything, right? Some people react bad to it. Real bad.”

“How bad?”

“Like convulsing, foaming at the mouth… seizure and then you’re dead bad,” says Brian. “Look, Betty, Tammy, whatever – we’ve always had a drug problem in this town, but the run of the mill stuff, you know? This thing, it’s new. And they’re going after the high school students.”

_That’s what they always do_. Jingle jangle. Gladys and her Gargoyles. They go after the kids. They always go after the kids.

This wasn’t the plan though. The plan was to get away from this stuff – get away from Riverdale, stand on her own two feet, find her way forward until the knots inside of her became a little less painful. Jumping into this will mean going backwards.

_Still_, she thinks, _you chose this town for a reason. You stopped here, Cooper. You know why_.

This town called at her. It reminded her of Riverdale. And she won’t turn Brian away – she knew that as soon as she opened the door to him.

“Why me?” she says. “Why not go to the police?”

He shrugs. “We don’t have much of a police force here. Besides, I want to know where it is coming from. Cut it off at the source. I don’t trust the police to do that.”

“Okay,” says Betty. “I’ll help you. Tell me everything.”

***

It is dark when Betty finally heads home. She walks quickly, keys in one hand, cell phone in the other. Betty’s apartment is a few blocks from the café. She paid for first and last month rent with the money that she got back from the CIA. She is hoping to pay next month’s rent out of her salary from the café. The rest of her money she plans to keep for college.

_You need to finish high school first before college_, she tells herself. _What’s your plan for that, Tammy Andrews?_

She could always go to the local high school. Although based on what Brian told her, that plan would not help her get anywhere near a college.

Her walk home is uneventful. Her one-bedroom apartment is on the second floor of a building with no elevator. The main floor used to be a convenience store, but it has long since boarded up its windows. Now the space is empty.

But the owners cared enough to keep the building freshly painted and the brick from crumbling. They had a furnished apartment for rent at a reasonable price. That was good enough for Betty.

She climbs the stairs and then lets herself into her apartment and flicks the light switch. Darkness gives way to light – the apartment is small, but functional. The main door opens to a small living/dining room that has enough space for a battered IKEA table and a two-seat sofa. There is one set of windows along the far wall with rickety screens with holes in them. Faded, white curtains hang over the windows. Opposite the windows, the kitchen is jammed into a nook with just enough counter space for a toaster and microwave. The fridge is at least fifteen years old and rattles noisily when the weather gets warm.

The bedroom has enough space for a bed, a side table, and a built-in closet. The en-suite bathroom is cramped and tight with the sink pushed up nearly against the toilet.

But it is hers.

The thought is almost enough to dull the painful ache inside of her. When she left Riverdale, when she boarded that bus, she thought she was escaping Riverdale’s mud and dirt. She needed to get far enough away to escape the shame that came with being Hal Cooper’s daughter.

And here she is, Tammy Andrews, just one more high school drop out earning minimum wage in a New York State backwater.

She had been so desperate to get away from her father, from the Black Hood, from the _grief _she felt at his death that she hadn’t thought about everything _else _she was leaving behind – Jug, Veronica, Archie, Pop’s, the water hole on Labour Day, Cheryl Blossom’s pool parties, the Serpents…

The truth is, it is lonely without those things. _She’s _lonely.

_You chose this, Betty_, she reminds herself. Jughead had taken her in his arms, kissed her forehead, and promised he would go with her. And she’d turned around and left him behind.

Since then they’ve barely spoken – she sent a text when she arrived to say she was okay. He wrote back to say he would always be there if there was anything she needed.

And since then? Nothing.

She needs to focus on something else. She tosses her keys on the table and then takes a seat on the sofa, her mind going over her conversation with Brian. Joe and his gang graduated high school about a year ago, but they didn’t go far. They were involved in petty theft and drug crime before they graduated – marijuana, mostly, some ecstasy – but the last few months, they became more organized, more aggressive. That’s when they started selling the new product. Brian thinks that Joe and his gang are part of a pipeline moving the drugs north.

If the drugs are coming in from down south… well, then they might already be in Riverdale. Chances are good that the Serpents would know if there was someone new moving into their territory.

Betty picks up her phone. She does know one person who might know. The light from her phone burns back into her eyes. She scrolls through her contacts, pause over Jughead’s name and then keeps going.

She stops on Veronica’s name. She hits dial. There’s a pause and then the phone connects. It rings once, twice, three times and –

“Oh my god, Betty, is that you?”

Betty almost doesn’t answer, briefly considers hanging up the phone. But instead she says, “Veronica… hi.”

“It _is _you. Betty, we’ve been so worried. How are you? Where are you? We can get a car, Betty. Wherever you are, we will come and get you.”

“I’m okay, V, I’m… good. I’m near the Canadian border. It’s good. Safe.” She pauses. “I have a job. And an apartment.”

“Of course my girl has herself sorted out,” Veronica says. “I never doubted you. I just wish it didn’t have to be so far away.”

Betty doesn’t respond to that. “And you - how are you? And Archie?”

“We’re good, B, really good. Other than missing you of course.” There’s a pause and Betty hears noises in the background. “Hang on a second, Betty.”

Betty can hear other voices speaking, too muffled for her to make out, and then Veronica’s voice, from further away says. “Shh! It’s Betty.”

Then a male voice that sounds like Archie says, “Betty? Let me talk to her-”

“-no, no way. You will scare her away. Leave this to me.”

Then Veronica is back on the line, “Hey you, still there?”

“Yeah,” says Betty, feeling tears prick at her eyes. There’s something about it, being on the phone with Veronica, hearing Archie in the background. “Are you guys at Pop’s?”

“Guilty as charged,” says Veronica and Betty can picture it – the two of them snuggled into a booth at Pop’s, fries and a milkshake in front of them. “You know I can’t resist the call of a strawberry milkshake in the summer.”

“I do know,” says Betty. “It’s good to hear your voice, V.”

“You too, Betty.”

In the distance, she hears Archie again. “Ask where when she’ll be home!” followed by Veronica hissing “_Shh!_”

Into the phone Veronica says, “Betty, is everything okay?”

_No_, Betty thinks, _I barely sleep. I live alone in a run down apartment in upstate New York. I miss you and Archie. I miss Jug so much that it hurts. _

What she says is, “Have you heard any whispers about a new drug in Riverdale? Like jingle jangle only more addictive and with some seriously bad side effects?”

There’s a pause on the line and Betty can picture Veronica’s brow furrowing as she thinks. “No,” she says finally. “I haven’t. I’ve been out of that world since putting daddy in prison. But I do have someone here who could help.”

Veronica disappears from the phone and Betty hears her hiss “_take it_.” There are other voices in the background but she can’t make out what is being said. There’s static from the phone and then a male voice says, “Betty – uh, hi.”

It’s Jughead. Betty’s stomach clenches. Her hands turn clammy. Her next breath is shaky.

“Hey,” she says – croaks, like the words are stuck in her throat.

Questions float to the surface – how are the Serpents? And Jellybean? FP? Are Veronica and Archie still in the glow of their back-together honeymoon? Has he heard from Gladys recently? Does he miss her? Think about her?

She manages to say, “So you’re at Pop’s.”

“Yeah,” he says. “We are.” There’s a pause and then Jughead clears his throat. “Veronica said that you had a question for me.”

“Yeah,” says Betty gratefully. This is good, safe ground – neutral ground. “I heard a rumour about a new drug. Like jingle jangle, but more potent, more dangerous. Have you heard anything? Seen anything?”

“It’s been a quiet summer in Riverdale,” he says thoughtfully. “Still… it doesn’t mean that there isn’t something new coming into town. I’ll look into it.”

Betty feels a lump in her throat. They’re speaking so formally, so stiffly. “Thanks,” she says. Then: “This thing is bad, Jug.”

“I’m getting that impression,” he says. “Betty, I know that you can look after yourself but if this is as bad as you say it is, is it a good idea for you to be looking into it?”

His tone is mild, almost causal, but she can hear the worry in his voice. Her insides clench again and she feels a surge of love well through her. Tears sting at her eyes and she almost blurts out that she’s sorry, she’s an idiot, she never should have left without him.

But that would seem too much like giving in to defeat, like admitting she can’t do this on her own.

She says, “I’m being careful.”

“Okay,” says Jughead. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Thanks,” says Betty. She clears her throat. “There’s something else.”

There’s something like hope in his voice. He says, “What is it?”

“The gang here that’s selling these drugs – they’ve got this tattoo – I haven’t been able to get a full look at it yet. I think that they brand it on their chests. It’s got a green tail that snakes up their necks. Like a dragon’s tail with scales and spikes on it. Have you seen that mark before?”

“No,” he says, and then with some difficulty, he adds, “I’ll look into that, too.” There’s another silence – it stretches out over the space between them. Finally, Jughead says, “Take care, Betty.”

“You too,” she says. “Bye.”

The line goes silent. Betty lowers the phone from her ear and blinks into the dim light of her apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

Jughead hangs up and slowly lowers the phone. Veronica and Archie peer up at him intently from their side of the booth at Pop’s. Their gaze is mix of pity and concern.

They have been looking at him a lot like that lately. Jughead keeps insisting that he is fine – really, he’s _fine _– but they show up almost every night like clockwork and force him out to Pop’s, or the movies, or to Archie’s for a barbeque.

During the day, his father and the Serpents have been keeping him busy with sheriff business. These days in Riverdale, the sheriff’s duties mostly involve rescuing cats from trees and chasing kids away from the watering hole. It is not glorious work, but it does fill the day.

And isn’t that what his life is now? He sleeps, he wakes up, he fills the day. He tolerates Archie and Veronica looking at him the way they are now, like they have realized something significant and painful and sad and are waiting for Jughead to realize that too.

He keeps reminding them, his father, Veronica, Archie, that Betty chose this – in fact, she _needed _this. They all just need to respect her choices.

He reminds himself of that, too. This is about Betty. After everything she’s been through, isn’t she allowed a selfish act? Shouldn’t she be allowed to grieve for her father in her own way?

“_Take care_?” says Veronica slowly, interrupting his thoughts. “You haven’t spoken in a _month_ and the best you can come up with is ‘_take care_’?”

Jughead hands Veronica her phone back and shrugs. “Betty made things clear in terms of where we stand.”

“Come on, Jughead,” says Archie, “you saw what she went through losing her dad. She’s shutting down. I’ve seen it. Ever since we were young, Betty hated feeling like she wasn’t in control. She once got a C on a math test – I think it was in fifth grade? Betty didn’t eat or sleep for three days. She just read that damn math book over and over, obsessing over every answer she got wrong. She completely lost her mind.”

Jughead levels a stare at Archie. “I know,” he says heavily. And he doesn’t have to go to fifth grade for an anecdote. He’s seen the marks on Betty’s palms, the Adderall bottles in her purse.

“And now she’s looking into a new drug?” Archie says. ‘This has to stop.”

Jughead slides into the booth opposite Archie and Veronica. “We have to respect her choices,” he says automatically. He sounds like a broken record. “She wanted this, Archie. Betty can look after herself.”

“Or,” says Archie, “we ask your dad, you know, the _sheriff_, to trace the location of that call and we go and we find her. Convince her to come back.”

“Okay Rambo,” says Veronica, holding up a hand. “This is 2019 and Betty isn’t a damsel in distress. We have to respect that she knows what she’s doing.”

“Agreed,” Jughead murmurs.

Archie shoots him a dark look and then glances back and forth between them. “Are you guys serious? Did you even hear what she was talking about? Drugs? This is gang activity. Whatever she is caught up in, it’s not good. She needs our help.”

“Look,” says Veronica, “while I’m all for letting my girl make her own choices, I don’t totally disagree. Jughead, do you have any idea what she was talking about? A new drug with majorly bad side effects? I haven’t heard about anything new in Riverdale.”

“Me neither,” says Jughead. He rubs his temples and stares down at the table. “The best thing we can do for Betty is look into this for her. Figure out what we’re dealing with.” He looks up and then finds Archie’s gaze. “Until then we have to trust that Betty can handle herself.”

Archie makes a noise of disgust in his throat. “Veronica, do you mind picking up the tab for this one? I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

Veronica blinks in confusion. “Sure, of course I don’t mind – Archie, where are you going?”

But Archie doesn’t say anything else. He springs to his feet and then heads purposely for the exit, the door to Pop’s opening and swinging shut behind him.

Jughead exchanges a look with Veronica. “I should…” he says, gesturing to where Archie took off. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” murmurs Veronica. “On the house for everyone.”

Jughead jumps to his feet and strides to the door, yanking it open. He squints into the darkened parking lot. He finally spies Archie pacing in front of his car, hands jammed into pockets.

“Hey – ” Jughead calls. “Archie!”

He jogs over. Archie stops his pacing and glares at him. “What do you want, Jughead? You made your position clear.”

“What’s wrong with you, man?” Jughead says. “Why are you acting like you’re the only person who is worried about Betty? You know what this has done to me. The only reason that I’m here as the third wheel for milkshakes at Pop’s is because you and Veronica feel like you need to baby-sit me.”

“I thought I knew,” murmurs Archie. “But I heard you in there, Jug. We have to ‘respect her choices.’ Let her deal with this on her own. Sorry if I don’t agree. But I think Betty’s safety ranks higher on our list of priorities than respecting her post-Black Hood emotional crisis.”

“Don’t trivialize what she’s going through – ”

“I’m _not_,” says Archie, “but I’m also not going to tip-toe around this if I think my best friend is in danger.”

Jughead is breathing hard. “Betty can look after herself.”

Archie makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “She left _town_, Jug! I know she was grieving, but she left the people who care most about her behind – _including _you. She’s self-destructing. She should be here, with us - hell, she should be in therapy – not out there wading into gang activity! Why am I the only person who sees this?”

Jughead folds his arms across his chest. His heart is beating hard and there is a trickle of sweat running down his back. “Do you think that this is a normal ‘_best friend_’ reaction, Archie? Veronica is Betty’s best friend and you don’t see her having a testosterone fuelled argument with me in the parking lot to Pop’s.”

Archie steps closer to him and takes a stance that Jughead recognizes as his defensive position in the ring. Every muscle in Archie’s body pulls tight and his weight bounces on the balls of his feet.

“That is ridiculous,” says Archie. “I’m with Veronica. I love Veronica. You’re grasping at straws here, Jughead, because she left you. She broke up with you.”

Jughead swallows. He really, really, really wants to punch Archie in his face. But he keeps his arms folded across his chest, his face hard. “We didn’t break up,” he manages.

“Oh, alright, so leaving in the middle of the night and going a month with no phone calls, no texts, that’s normal relationship stuff,” says Archie. “Let’s face it, Jughead, you’re not thinking clearly about any of this.”

“Careful,” Jughead grits out, “you are very close to saying things that you can’t take back.”

Archie clenches his jaw together. They stare at each other, both breathing heavily. Light evening breezes rustles through the trees around the parking lot.

“If things hadn’t ended the way they did,” Archie says, “you would be with me on this.”

Jughead leans in even closer. They are practically breathing in each other’s faces. “Let’s get something straight between us. You are not Betty’s boyfriend. You do not get to do this jealous, possessive routine.”

“Well one of us has to do it,” Archie grits out. “If you won’t help me, Jughead, then I will go after Betty on my own.”

Jughead’s fingers curl into a fist at his side. “Fine,” he snaps. “Good luck. Have fun explaining all of this to your girlfriend.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Archie says and he suddenly seems calm. He breaks his boxing stance and takes a step back, shaking his head. “After everything we have been through these last few months, I will not lose her. I will not lose Betty.” He turns and opens his driver side door. “See you around, Jughead.”

Archie climbs into the car and turns his keys in the ignition. Jughead takes a step back. His heart is still pounding and there’s a roar in his ears. Archie backs out of the parking spot and floors it as he pulls away, tires squealing out of the parking lot.

***

Betty Cooper (aka Tammy Andrews) is wearing bright red lipstick and a lilac printed summer dress with a Screamin’ Beans apron pulled over top of it. Her hair is pulled tightly into a ponytail. Her smile is plastered into place. Her name tag is fixed officially to one of the spaghetti straps on her dress.

It’s Thursday. Joe’s favourite night.

Betty has spent the last week listening. She has learned to be invisible. Keep her head down. Sweep the store when it’s quiet. Fill the water jug in the back. Stock the bathroom with enough toilet paper. Never look anyone in the eye.

She plays the part perfectly. The polite but dumb blonde. Serving lattes by day and wine by the glass at night. She’s just… staff. Staff fade into the background.

She wants it that way. It allows her to listen and to learn.

First, she learns that this wasn’t always Joe’s territory. He and his gang were involved in petty crime and thefts in high school, but it’s only recently that he’s carved out territory for himself.

Second, she learns that they call themselves the Dragons – confirming her suspicions that their tattoos are their gang symbol. This last part she texted to Jughead in hopes that it would help him get more information about them.

Third, the reason Joe and the Dragons rose so quickly is because of drugs. Specifically, they have them and customers want to buy them. The Dragons are full fledged dealers and cornering most of the business in town.

Lastly, they _are_ selling something new – that much is clear. Betty’s customers at Screamin’ Beans are torn. Some like the new drug, but others have heard things… bad things…

All of which makes Betty want to find out more – and soon.

Joe and the Dragons arrive right on time. The clock strikes 5:00 and the bell over the door jingles to announce their presence. They fan out across the café. Some of them sit at tables with women who must be their girlfriends. Everyone else in the café gets up and leaves in a hurry.

Betty forces a smile as Joe saunters up to the counter. His leather jacket is battered and his dark hair sits in a messy heap on his head. He is wearing a dark blue, v-cut shirt under his jacket and his green dragon tattoo curls up his neck and throat. There is a cut above his eye – the wound is almost an inch across – not bleeding, but still fresh. There is also the faintest hue of a bruise beginning to spread across the left side of his jaw.

Betty widens her eyes and bites her lip in hopes that she looks sincerely concerned. “Oh my god, what happened? Are you okay?”

As she expected, Joe is pleased by her concern. “Occupational hazard,” he says with a grin. He looks her up and down, gaze lingering on the spaghetti straps of her dress and then on her red lips. “You look… beautiful,” he says. His tone is sincere and Betty almost feels bad that she is going to use his feelings for her to get more information. Almost.

“Thanks,” says Betty. She clears her throat then picks up a cloth and begins to wipe at a blotch on the counter in front of her. She tries to seem bashful. “We close at 7:00 today.”

“I know what time you close,” says Joe. “You tutor on Thursday nights.”

Betty keeps her gaze on the counter and keeps rubbing at the blotch. “Not tonight.”

“Ah,” says Joe. He leans his hands on the counter and moves in closer to her. He lowers his voice. “Care to join us tonight? My place, we’re having a house party. It will be discreet. Small.”

Betty hesitates. “I don’t know,” she says. Then she looks up at him, trying to seem shy and nervous. “I’m not from around here and I don’t know if I should be…. What I mean to say is, this isn’t exactly my scene, Joe.”

He reaches out places one of his hands on her, the hand that is still rubbing at the blotch on the counter. His palm is warm on top of hers. His thumb sweeps over her wrist and then he links their fingers together. Betty carefully keeps her gaze down. She is afraid that if she looks at him, she will yank her hand back and give away her ruse.  


“You don’t have anything to worry about,” he says. His words are deep. “Stay close to me and I promise that you will never have anything to worry about.”

His fingers squeeze hers. This is it. The opening that she had been hoping for.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Tonight. After my shift ends.”

***

Jughead is frustrated. It’s been a week since he spoke to Betty and he has nothing to show for it. He’s had the Serpents make inquiries. Nothing. He’s checked with what remains of the Gargoyles. Nothing. He checked in with his father – _“It’s been quiet all summer long and it’s about time Riverdale has some of that, boy” – _which was also a dead end.

He’s barely slept since speaking to Betty. He won’t give up, but he feels further away from her than ever.

His phone rings. He checks the caller ID – it’s Veronica – and quickly accepts the call.

“Anything?” he practically barks into the phone.

“Hello to you too, Sunshine,” Veronica murmurs but then she sighs. “No. nothing. I ransacked daddy’s old study and even spoke to my mother. I couldn’t get anything out of her, but to be fair, I think this time it’s because she really doesn’t know anything.”

“I’m in the same boat. Whatever Betty is dealing with, it’s not in Riverdale,” he says. “She texted me the name of the gang selling this stuff – the Dragons. Have you ever heard of them?”

“No,” says Veronica. She sighs. “There is one person who might know, but daddy will extract a high price for that information.”

Jughead sits down on the edge of his bed. “You’re right. Involving Hiram Lodge in this will only make things worse at this point.”

“And worse is something we cannot afford,” says Veronica.

“Besides,” says Jughead. “I have one more source I have yet to tap. Let me try that first.”

“Happily,” says Veronica. She hesitates. “There’s one more thing. It’s Archie.”

Jughead stills. He and Archie haven’t spoken since their confrontation in Pop’s parking lot. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure, but I think he’s found something,” Veronica says. “I know he was speaking to Mad Dog and the other guys at the ring. He didn’t give me any specifics. I think he was worried that if he did, I would share it with… well, you. Anyway, he texted me about a half hour ago to let me know he can’t meet up tonight.”

Jughead lets that sink in. He meant what he said about respecting Betty’s wishes, but suddenly he’s imagining Archie finding her, working with her, taking down the Dragons, comforting her, willing her to come home…

He reminds himself that Betty and Archie are friends – best friends – there will always be a bond between them because of that. _And Betty loved Archie since she was about five years old_, a traitorous voice reminds him, _does that kind of devotion really just disappear?_

Veronica is speaking again. “Jughead, I hate to even be _thinking _about this but… do you think there’s something going on between them? Betty and Archie? Tell me I’m just being crazy.”

Jughead feels tongue-tied. The fact that he is having his own doubts makes him the wrong person to reassure her.

“They’re best friends,” he finds himself saying. “Archie has always been protective of Betty. Ever since we were kids. Like a big brother.”

_Brother_. That’s a good word. A non-threatening word.

“You’re right,” says Veronica. “I’m insane. That’s the only explanation. Things with Archie have been so… indescribable since we got back together. I need to focus on that. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he says and tries not feel guilty. Tries not to feel like he is lying to her. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He hangs up the phone. Afternoon sun spills into his room and he squints. As he told Veronica, he still has one more source to try. A source he’s been ignoring, but maybe his best chance – _only _chance – at finding out what Archie knows.

He scrolls through his contacts list until he finds ‘Gladys Jones.’ He hits dial.

“Hi mom,” he says when the line connects. “I need your help.”


	4. Chapter 4

Joe lives in a two-story townhome on the edge of town. Betty hears music thumping from the inside as she climbs the walk to the front door. She rings the doorbell. The music lowers in volume and footsteps pound from inside

Joe opens the door, smiling bashfully. “Tammy,” he says. “I have to say, I wasn’t completely convinced that you would come.”

“Neither was I,” says Betty honestly.

Joe stands back to let her inside. She follows him down a dark hall, past a set of stairs on her right, a kitchen on her left, and into a den. There are three other men in the den. Their signature dragon tattoos curl up their necks. They are spread out in the room – one on the sofa, another two men on the floor. The noise she heard wasn’t music, but a video game of some kind. The two boys on the floor are locked into a stealth and shoot mission and barely look over at her as she enters.

The one on the sofa waves at her. “Hi Tammy,” he says. She recognizes him from the café. “I’m Dave.”

Dave’s eyes are glassy and his smile is dazed. He blinks at her like he’s seeing her through a fog.

“Party is getting started, I see,” she murmurs under her breath.

Joe appears next to her. “We’re just getting started,” he says. He holds up a bottle of whiskey. “Would you like a drink? For the record, this is the good stuff.”

Betty almost says “no” and then changes her mind. Surely snooping through Joe’s house will be easier if he’s had a few drinks?

“Love some,” she says.

“Me too, Joe,” says one of the men on the floor.

“Yeah,” chimes in his buddy. “Me as well, Joe.”

“This is too nice to waste on you boys,” says Joe. “It’s for good company only.”

There’s a guffaw from the ground. “Hope you’re not including yourself in that company.”

The volume on the TV turns up and Joe winces. “I’ll get us some glasses,” he says and disappears down the hall.

Betty follows him to the kitchen. The kitchen is small but fully stocked. The appliances are new – stainless steel, and the paint is fresh. The countertops are granite.

“Joe,” she says. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… do you own this place?”

Joe snorts. He opens a cupboard and pulls out two shot glasses. “No,” he says. “This isn’t exactly my personal style. It’s my folks’ house.” He fills the glasses with whiskey and hands one to Betty. “Cheers.”

Betty takes the glass and raises it to her lips. She holds it there, pretending to drink, and then lowers the glass again. She catches Joe’s eye and coughs daintily into her elbow. 

“So if you live here then where are your parents?”

“In Canada,” says Joe. “My sister and her kid are up there.” He takes another sip of whisky. “They’re happy for me to stay here in the meantime. Look after things.”

Betty quirks an eyebrow. “And help with the family business?”

Joe points a finger in her direction. “Are you sure you want an answer to that?”

Betty smiles in what she hopes is a bashful smile. She pretends to take another sip of whisky. “I’m just curious about you. I always have been. Since the moment we met.”

As the words leave her mouth, Betty worries she went too far – oversold it – because Joe places the whiskey glass on the counter. He closes the distance between them. Betty instinctively backs up, but his eyes are soft.

“I know the feeling,” he murmurs, still coming close – _too close_. Betty freezes as Joe plucks the whiskey glass from her hand and sets it on the counter behind her. “There’s so much about you I want to know, Tammy.” He searches her eyes, his gaze intense. “I feel like every time I start to get to know you, it becomes clear to me that there is only more to learn.”

He’s leaning in and Betty is panicking. This has gone further than she wanted it to go. _But come on now, Cooper, where else was it going to go? _He’s a gangster with a crush on her. She wanted to exploit that crush, _use _it to investigate him. But she knew it was dangerous. He could easily become suspicious that she is suddenly reciprocating his feelings. Or she could get caught in a lie. And now she’s _alone _with him – surrounded by his _gang members_, and he’s about to kiss her…

The doorbell rings and Joe pauses, close enough that she feels his breath on her face.

“You should get that,” Betty whispers.

Joe groans and takes a step back. “What did I say? You leave me wanting more, Andrews.”

He goes to answer the door and Betty is alone. Her heart is pounding and her hands are clammy. What is she _doing_? She should leave while she still can. She should really, really leave.

But she won’t. She isn’t sure she will get this opportunity again. She’s in his family’s house. There has to be evidence of the drugs nearby. She just needs to find it.

She dumps the rest of her whiskey in the sink and heads back to join the party in the den. Two more Dragons have arrived. One of them has his arm casually thrown across the shoulders of a woman who looks only a few years older than Betty. Joe gestures for Betty to join him. He’s now holding a beer in one of his hands. The noise from the TV is deafening.

Betty ignores him and instead turns to the woman. She has dark, short hair and is wearing a tight tank top and jeans. She’s swaying slightly on her feet and has a slightly glazed over expression.

“Hi,” Betty says sweetly, extending her hand. “I’m Tammy.”

“Denise,” says the woman, taking Betty’s hand. Her fingers are cold and clammy. Denise blinks a few times as if trying to regain her focus. “You’re the girl from the coffee shop. Omigosh, are you here with Joe?”

Betty tries to look embarrassed. “Yes,” she says. “I finally had to give him a chance.”

Denise nods eagerly like she wants to say more but suddenly Joe appears at Betty’s side. One of his hands finds her elbow. The grip is warm and strong – almost possessive. Betty’s heart pounds a little faster. Again, she questions the wisdom of going through with her plan. She barely escaped Joe in the kitchen. How long can she fend him off before he gets suspicious?

“I was just going to get Denise a drink,” Betty gushes. “Denise, you have _got _to try the whiskey.”

Joe’s grip on Betty’s elbow loosens but doesn’t go away. Betty turns to look at him in what she hopes is an adoring way. “You don’t mind, do you? It’s been so hard for me to make friends since I moved here.” Then she leans in and presses her lips to his cheek – a chaste kiss, but she lets her lips linger like a promise. “Thanks for inviting me here tonight.”  


“You’re welcome,” says Joe and finally he lets go of her elbow. And then, quietly, he says, “I am going to need you all to myself later.” He says it like a warning. Betty forces herself to nod and smile. Then she takes Denise’s arm to guide her to the kitchen. She feels Joe’s gaze on her back as they walk down the hall.

Betty is running out of time. Either she needs to find something now or she needs to pull the plug on this fact-finding mission and get out of this house.

They reach the kitchen. The whiskey is still on the counter. Betty pulls down two fresh shot glasses from where she saw Joe get them earlier. Betty fills the glasses to the brim and hands one to Denise.

Denise downs the shot almost immediately. Betty feels a twinge of guilt for giving alcohol to a woman who already seems impaired. But she says, “Here, let me give you a refill.”

“Thanks,” says Denise, wiping her mouth. She smiles in Betty’s direction, her eyes unfocused. “You’re really nice, Tammy.”

“You too,” says Betty. She fills Denise’s shot glass again and hands it back to her. “So how long have you been with the Dragons?”

“Oh.” Denise laughs. “I’m not with them. I mean, I hang out with them, sure, but those guys are strictly men’s only. Not very 2019, I know, but they’ve always been like that.”

“You go back a few years?”

“Oh yeah, me and Sam – the one, you know, with the leather jacket?” Betty nods and does not point out that they all have leather jackets. “We’ve been dating on and off since we were in high school. That’s when Joe and the Dragons first got together.”

“I heard that,” Betty says. “It’s so strange to imagine Joe in a high school gang. I mean, he’s just so… so… in charge of things.”

“I know,” says Denise. She sways on her feet and leans back against the counter. “Back then, the Dragons weren’t like they are now. They were just a group of angry high school kids, y’know? Selling some dope, but mostly trying to make themselves seem cooler. That’s when I started seeing Sam. I smoked my first cigarette with him and the others. Since then… well, you know how this story goes.”

Betty feels a stab of pity for her, but she pushes forward. “They’re not just selling dope anymore,” she says. “They’ve gone upmarket.”

“Extra upmarket,” says Denise. She downs another round of whiskey. “Word is that the stuff they’re selling is coming through Joe’s family in Canada.”

Betty had already guessed that. What she really wants is a name. “What’s it called?” she says, trying not to sound overly eager. “It just, it seems like everyone at this party has some.”

“Oh yeah, it’s everywhere now, a real hit,” says Denise. “The Dragons have got the whole town addicted. I don’t know what they call it Canada, but here we call it Pixie Dreams.”

“Pixie Dreams?” says Betty.

“Yeah, real fancy name, isn’t it? It does what it says though. This stuff takes you away. It’s like being on a cloud.” Denise pauses. “Got anymore whiskey?”

Betty tops her up again and Denise takes a sip, her eyes blinking somewhere in the distance.

“Why don’t you go back to the party,” Betty says. “I’ve got… I’m going to go use the ladies’ room.”

“‘Kay,” says Denise. Betty follows Denise as she leaves the kitchen and watches her wind her way down the hall, cradling the whiskey shot in one hand. From the den, she hears the blaring of the video game and the ebb and flow of male voices. No one is looking in her direction.

Betty pops out of the kitchen, but instead of heading back to the den, she turns in the other direction. She finds the staircase she passed earlier and climbs it, wincing as the stairs creak under her steps. She goes as quickly as she dares. At the top, there’s a landing and then another hallway. There’s a window at the top of the stairs and some light from the street filters in, but mostly the hall is dark. She doesn’t dare turn on a light. Instead, she reaches under her dress – she has a pouch hidden against her hip under her clothes – and pulls out her phone.

She quickly turns on the phone’s flashlight. She shines it over the hallway. She sees four closed doors.

She opens the first door – it’s the bathroom. She shuts the door and moves on to the next one. It’s a bedroom with a queen big and a thick carpet. She shuts that door too and moves on to the next one. She turns the handle on the door – and nothing happens.

“Bingo,” she whispers. She crouches down and places her phone on the floor. Her hands go to her ponytail and she pulls out a bobby pin. She goes to work on the lock on the door. Her phone doesn’t provide much light from the ground and so she works mostly blind – it takes her longer than it normally would, but she hears the telltale “_click_” and then the doorknob turns.

She quickly steps into the room and closes the door behind her. She considers turning on the light, but if anyone were to come up the stairs, it would be a dead giveaway that someone was in the room. Instead she shines her flashlight over the room.

The room was probably once a bedroom, but now seems to be an office of some kind. It has the same thick, ugly carpet as the last room. There is a desk shoved against one corner covered with loose papers and an old desktop computer with a monitor that looks like something out of the 1990s. There is no other furniture in the room. Instead there are bankers boxes piled up across the wall and stacked one on top of the other.

Betty strides over to the first bankers box. She lifts the cover and shines her flashlight on the contents of the box. The box is stuffed with white powder contained in a clear plastic bag.

Her heart begins to pound and her fingers are shaking as she finds the camera app on her phone and snaps a few pictures.

She closes the box and moves on to the next one. It’s the same. The box is filled with clear plastic bags stuffed with white powder. She takes pictures again and then moves on. She opens the next box – this one is filled with paper. She takes the first sheet. It’s a list of names, organized on a chart, next to… outstanding balances?

Customer lists. Her fingers are still shaking as she snaps pictures of the top page and then a few pages underneath. She hurriedly stuffs the papers back in the box and then stands up, heart still pounding. This operation is _massive. _The customer lists, the _amount _of drugs they have… Joe can’t be doing this on his own. The Dragons must be part of a bigger whole.

She goes over to the desk and shines her flashlight over the loose papers. She moves to the desk, camera clicking as she snaps photos of the papers sprawled over the surface. Customer lists? Supply chains? The notes and the names blur together. The columns are only half-filled out and there are handwritten notes and acronyms on the page. She doesn’t have time to decode it. She snaps a few more pictures and then turns her gaze to the computer. She debates turning it on and trying to get into it. But there will be security, and she is not exactly an expert hacker. She could try taking out the hard rive and turning it over to the police, but she doubts her ability to do that either quickly or quietly.

What she should do is get out of the party now and take what she has already found back to the police. Maybe that will be enough to do a proper raid.

That’s when she hears a noise from the outside – a creak, like somebody is coming up the stairs. Betty whips around in a circle looking for someplace to hide. There’s a closet next to the desk. She strides over to it and yanks the door open. Inside the closet, there are more bankers boxes piled one on top of the other. She quickly forces herself inside, pushing the boxes out of the way and pulling the door closed. She switches the flashlight off the phone. Her face is pressed up against the door, her body squeezed between it and the boxes.

Darkness descends. Her breathing feels unbearably loud in the confined space. Her hands are shaking and her heartbeat rings in her ears. From outside, she listens as heavy footsteps walk down the corridor. A door opens and then shuts. There is silence again. Minutes pass and then she hears a toilet flush. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to control her breathing – _please, please, please just let that person head back to the party. Please. _

Suddenly her phones erupts with a loud _ding _and the screen lights up with a new text message.

She had a forgotten to turn her phone on to silent.

She hurriedly unlocks her phone. It’s a text message from Veronica – _B, sorry about this, but I think Archie might have found something and is on his way to you. I couldn’t stop him _– but Betty barely registers the message. She mutes the phone, but the damage is done.

Outside she hears footsteps now heading in her direction. The door to the room loudly bangs open and light floods through the room and under the crack of the door to the closet. Betty muffles a gasp. Her mind working furiously, she dials 9-1-1 on the phone. Footsteps are approaching the closet.

The call connects: “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

At the same time, someone rips the closet doors open. Betty is staring into the face of a burly man she only vaguely recognizes. He has a thick, bulging neck and short cropped hair. The Dragon tattoo ripples across his neck.

He looks stunned to see her. Betty finds her voice. Into the phone she says, “I’m at a house party on Hastings Street – number 619 – please help me, I’m –”

But she doesn’t get to finish. The burly man rips the phone from her and throws it across the room with a grunt. It hits the wall and shatters, falling to the ground.

“Bitch,” he snarls.

“I’m sorry,” Betty tries, “I was just trying to find the bathroom, I –”

The burly man grabs her by the hair and drags her out of the closet. Betty shrieks and then buckles to her knees. The man’s thick fist holds tightly to her hair. Pain explodes across her scalp.

“Please,” she pants between laboured breath. “I can explain.”

The man shakes her by the head and Betty shrieks again, hands instinctively going up to try and push away his grip. But he simply bats her away with his free hand.

Footsteps pound up the stairs and moments later, three other Dragons enter the room including Joe. His eyes are wide and concerned when they land on Betty. “What the hell is going on in here? Let her go.”

The hand in her hair loosens, but does not let go. “I found her hiding in the closet.”

“Please,” sobs Betty. Her voice sounds hysterical. “I was trying to find the bathroom. I got lost.”

“When I found her, she was calling the _cops_,” spits the burly man. He gives her hair a yank again and Betty squeals in pain.

“Let her go,” says Joe. His voice is calm. Measured. “Now.”

The burly man hesitates, but then he releases her. The pain in Betty’s head recedes. She struggles to her feet. Her legs are weak and heavy. “I was _scared_,” she says, trying to find Joe’s gaze. She pleads with him. “I didn’t know what was going on. I’m sorry. I acted instinctively.”

“Yes,” says Joe. His voice is flat, emotionless. “Denise told me that you went to use the bathroom. You were gone quite some time.”

“I got lost,” Betty repeats. “I’m sorry, I –”

In two quick strides, he closes the distance between them. Without warning, his palm comes up and he strikes her against the face. Betty stumbles under the force of the blow, her shoulder knocking back into the closet. Tears come into her eyes as pain explodes along the side of her face and into her lip.

“This door is kept locked at all times,” Joe yells, spittle flies through the air and lands on her face. “No one accidentally stumbles in here on their way to the bathroom.”

Betty is cradling the side of her face that he hit, staring at him with wide panicked eyes. “It wasn’t locked. Joe, you know me, you know that I wouldn’t –”

She’s expecting the blow this time, but there is nothing that she can do to stop it. His fist comes fast and powerful against the same side of her face. Her neck snaps against the door to the closet and her legs buckle. Bile rises in her throat and her stomach heaves. She gasps out a choking breath as she crumbles to the floor.

Joe towers over her, flanked on either side by men wearing leather jackets and matching Dragon tattoos. Betty struggles to balance her weight on her hands. The room is spinning around her.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out from the floor.

“Who are you working for?” says Joe. His voice has gone flat and emotionless again. “Is it Gerry’s gang? Did he set you up to this?”

“No,” says Betty. “I’m working alone.”

This time he kicks her, his foot landing heavily in her stomach. She doubles over, curling into herself, tears leaking out of her eyes. A wave of nausea rolls through her and she shudders.

“STOP LYING TO ME!” he shouts. He pauses and collects himself. “You used me,” he says, his voice flat. “You used my feelings for you.”

He kicks her again, his foot landing heavily in her stomach. She cries out in pain, her voice wheezing and gasping. “No, no, Joe, it’s not like that. Please.” She pushes herself to a sitting position and pulls her legs in close to her stomach, trying to turn herself into as tight a ball as possible. “I’m here because I like you, Joe. I swear. I just… I had to know.” Tears leak out of the corner of her eyes. “You said you wanted to know more about me,” she says, her voice breaking. “Well, this is me. When I’m onto something, I can’t let it go. I knew you were selling drugs, and I just… I had to know. I had to.”

She pours as much desperation and sincerity into her words as she can. She feels like her life is depending on this performance. She holds his gaze as long as she can. He finally looks away, but she can detect a softening in his face.

“Please Joe,” she whispers. Then again, sincerely, “I just had to know.”

From outside, down the block, she can hear sirens in the distance. The Dragons glance at each other.

“Boss?” asks the burly man.

“Get the boys up here,” he says. “Everyone grabs a box. Burn the rest. We’ll go out the back.”

“Got it,” says the burly man. He exits the room and then disappears down the hall.

The other two Dragons glance at each other. Then they each grab a box and beeline for the doorway after the burly man.

Betty and Joe are alone. Joe sweeps his gaze over her form. “And know this, Tammy. I will be looking into you and your story. I am soon going to learn every part of your life. And if I find something that suggests you were lying to me tonight then I will find you. Understand?”

Betty nods. “Yes,” she croaks.

“Get out of here.”

She isn’t going to give him time to change his mind. She scrambles to her feet. Her eyes jump to her shattered phone – it’s still in mostly one piece, but it is clearly broken behind repair. Pain rings in her face, in her side and abdomen, but she stumbles out of the door and then down the stairs. The sirens in the distance are getting louder. Behind her, she can hear the rushed footsteps of the rest of the Dragons heading up the stairs and shouting orders at each other. She can smell smoke.

She doesn’t hang around to see what happens. Adrenaline courses through her and douses some of the pain. She runs out of the house, down the front steps and to the sidewalk. She keeps running along the sidewalk, putting as much space between her and that house as she can.

***

Betty runs for about 20 minutes before she slows down. Some of the adrenaline is leaving her system and the pain in her face and stomach is beginning to throb. She settles for a pained jog – all she can think is that she needs to get home, inside, the door locked behind her because at any moment they will come back after her.

She tells herself that the police will slow them done. Their priority will be getting out of there with as many drugs as possible and destroying the evidence left behind. They won’t have time for her. Still, she pushes herself as hard as her painful body will allow. She is still another 30 minutes from her apartment.

She makes it there in 25 minutes. When she arrives outside of her building, she slows to a halt. Her cheek is throbbing and her stomach feels like it is tearing itself in knots. Her breath is coming out in laboured wheezes.

She looks up at her apartment from across the street and freezes. She can see her living room window from her position on the street. And there is a light on. There is a light on inside of the apartment. Her mind goes into overdrive – it was almost dark when she headed out earlier that night – had she left a light on by accident? Or is there someone in the apartment?

Suddenly she recalls the text that she had received from Veronica. She had said something about Archie. Archie was on his way to her?

She glances around her, trying to assess her options. She has no phone. She has a key to her apartment and a credit card, both stored in the hidden pouch under her dress.

She could try and find a motel that won’t ask too many questions. But she’s on foot. And her body is aching. She doesn’t know how far she will make it if she does

She only has one real choice. She has to go up there. Hopefully it’s nothing. Or if there is someone up there, it’s Archie and he somehow found his way inside.

Truthfully, some back up right now would not be unwelcome.

Taking a deep breath, she lets herself into the building. She looks around for some kind of weapon she can use to defend herself. Her gaze lies on a red brick that some of the tenants use to prop the door open when they move in and out.

She picks it up and then makes her way up the stairs to her unit. She shifts the brick to her left hand and tries the doorknob – the door is unlocked.

_That supports the ‘someone’ theory_, she thinks. Her head is spinning and her heart is ringing in her ears. Adrenaline surging, she pushes the door open and bursts into her apartment, the brick held high over her head. Her eyes dart wildly around before she finds the intruder.

He’s sitting on the couch, his elbows propped on his knees and chin resting heavily on his clasped hands. 

Betty gasps. “Jug?”


	5. Chapter 5

Betty slowly lowers the brick. Her heart is pounding wildly but relief sweeps through her. She sets the brick down and then hurriedly shuts and locks the door behind her. She collapses back against it. Her legs feel weak; her throat is dry and parched.

She looks over at Jughead. He’s still there. She hasn’t imagined him.

He is on his feet now, arms swinging awkwardly at his sides. “Hi,” he says. “I’m sorry to just, uh, show up like this.”

“That’s okay,” Betty whispers hoarsely. She’s reeling. How did he _get _here? _Jughead is here, _she thinks to herself. _In my apartment. _As if that will make it real.

He takes a step towards her and then stops. His body stiffens and his hands furl into fists at his sides. He’s staring at her face. When he speaks again, his voice is shaken, “What happened?”

The concern in his voice is almost too much for her. Without saying another word, she closes the distance between them and throws herself into his arms. She senses his surprise and confusion, but his arms fold around her and his chin presses down on the top of her head. Betty feels hot tears burning in her eyes.

“Betty,” he says, his voice low, “what’s going on? Did someone do something to you?”

She shakes her head and then squeezes him more tightly, pressing her face against the nook between his shoulder and neck. She breathes him in – a mix of leather, and must, and a hint of sweat – like he’s just finished a workout and hasn’t had time for a shower. It’s comforting and so _Jughead_. She muffles a sob against his shoulder, breathes in and out and tries to hold back the tears.

Finally, Betty pulls away and wipes at her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she says. She feels ashamed by her outburst. They haven’t seen each other in _weeks _and the first thing she does is launch herself at him like she’s drowning and he’s her lifeboat.

He barely seems to hear her. “Someone hit you,” he says, still in that low voice. “Was it the Dragons? Did they do this?”

She avoids answering. “I found the drugs,” she says. “It’s called Pixie Dreams. They’re coming in through a supply chain from Canada.”

“I know,” says Jughead. He’s still staring at her. She feels a flush creeping up her neck. “I talked to my mother. She’s been keeping tabs on this area for a while now. These guys, the Dragons, they’re just kids. The Canadians are running the show. That’s why they have such easy access to the drugs.”

She nods. She figured most of that out already. “I took pictures,” she says. “The drugs, some of their client lists… maybe even some of their communications their bosses.” She pauses and swallows. “I lost my phone, but the pictures should be on the cloud.”

A long silence passes. Betty’s legs can no longer support her. She drags herself to the couch and then collapses down heavily.

Jughead follows and then crouches down in front of her. His gaze finds hers. His eyes are crinkled with worry.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” he says. He reaches for her face, thumb smoothing gently along her bruised cheek. Then his hand cups her face, thumb now sliding behind her ear and down her neck. “Please.”

“Okay,” she whispers. She can’t stop herself from leaning into his hand, drawing as much comfort from his touch as she can. “I befriended one of them. His name is Joe. He’s their leader… I think. Anyway, he had a crush on me. I let him think that it was reciprocated so that he would invite me over for a house party. Then I went digging.” She pauses. _Recite the facts, _she tells herself. _Just recite the facts. _“But they found me. I was able to call the police, but… the Dragons weren’t exactly happy to find me going through their drug den.”

“I bet,” says Jughead. “Is that how you got that bruise on your cheek? And the split lip?” He lets out a shaky breath. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” she says, her breath hitching. Tears blur at her vision. She lifts her shirt to show him her stomach. His eyes are dark as he stars at the bruising skin on her abdomen. She does not have to look down at herself to know that the skin is turning a fiery red, tinged with black and blue.

“Betty,” he says, his voice cracking. He bows his head, his hands going to her knees, his grip tight. “They could have done worse.”

“I know,” she whispers.

“A lot worse.”

“I _know_,” she says, voice louder and hysterical. She hisses out a breath and forces back the tears, the hysterics. They don’t have time for that now. “But they let me go and I got away. I’m fine. I’m going to be fine.”

“I should have been there,” he murmurs. He lets go of her knees and then presses his palms to his eyes. “Archie was right. I should have been there.”

Betty breathes in and out shakily. She reaches for his hands, drags them away from his face. She leans forward on her haunches so that she is staring into his eyes. “I’m the one who screwed up, Jug. I left Riverdale. I threw myself into… this. I thought if I could do this on my own… then maybe, maybe it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

He squeezes her hands and then searches her face. “What wouldn’t matter?”

“My mother left me,” she whispers. “And my dad…” she chokes out another sob. “They’re both _gone_. I’m only 17, and they left me.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, Betty.”

“No,” she says. Another tear rolls down her cheek. “_I’m _sorry. I left you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. You’re the one person who I can always count on. I hurt you.”

She can see the pain in his eyes, but he only says, “We'll talk about that later. Right now the only thing that matters is that you're safe. Whatever comes next, we will figure it out.”

Warmth spread through her – warmth and relief. She nods and wipes at her nose. “Not that I’m not glad to see you,” she says, “but how did you find me? How did you get _in _here?”

“Come on, Betty Cooper, I’ve learned a few tricks from you over the years.” He sobers and then says, “My mother. She’s been keeping tabs on the Dragons for months now. Plus, it turns out, not that many people come to this town from the outside. You were something of an oddity, Betty Cooper. For someone looking to get away from Riverdale, you do know how to pick ‘em.”

“What can I say?” Betty says, trying to add some levity to her voice. “I jumped at the chance to get in with the first gang in leather jackets that came my way.”

Jughead does not look amused. “If only these guys were at all like the Serpents. Then we would be having a different conversation.” He pauses and then with reluctance, he adds. “You should also know that Archie is in town looking for you.”

"I know," says Betty. "Veronica texted me." The full impact of this sinks in and she springs to her feet, whirling around to face him. "Jug, Archie will be out there asking questions about me. About Betty Cooper."

"Okay…."

Betty paces back and forth. "But the thing is, Betty Cooper doesn't exist here. I've been going by an alias."

"An alias?"

"I found work. Part-time waitress, barrister… bartender," says Betty. "A local coffee shop. The Screamin' Beans. On my application, I put down a fake name. Tammy. Tammy Andrews."

Jughead's jaw tightens. "Andrews?" he says delicately.

Betty shrugs. "I wanted something common. Easy. Something no one would question."

"Jones is a common name," Jughead says. "Easy. To the point. In fact, it's only five letters. Great for nametags."

Betty blinks at him. If she didn't know better, she would almost say he sounds… jealous. "I thought about it," she admits. "But I didn’t want to be _me _anymore. I wanted to blend in. I wanted to…” _What? _she asks herself, _fade away_? She swallows and then settles on, “Using your name would have been too painful.”

Jughead acknowledges her explanation with a slight bow of his head. "You're worried about what will happen when Archie goes around town looking for a Betty Cooper."

She nods. "It will get back to the Dragons. They will know that I've been lying to them for months."

Jughead's eyes linger on the bruise on her cheek and then rest on her split lip. "We have to get you out of here. Now."

She shakes her head. "We can't leave Archie."

He hisses out a breath. "Maybe not. But we can call for reinforcements."

"The Serpents."

Jughead nods. "Fangs. Sweetpea. My dad. Mad Dog, too, if he can come. We'll need all the help that we can get."

"There's something else we should do. Those photos I took, Jug - not just proof that this stuff exists, but I got information about their customers, the supply chain. I think the FBI would be interested in that."

A smile tugs at his mouth. And suddenly it's like nothing has changed. The last month never happened; they are back in Riverdale, Betty and Jughead, scheming their way out of trouble.

"If only we had a contact deep inside the FBI who would take us seriously,” Jughead muses.

Betty smirks. "Start with Sweetpea," she says. "We need the Serpents on the move now. Then I'll call Charles."

****

They share Jughead’s phone to make all their calls. It takes them a couple of hours, but finally they finish everything they need to - the Serpents are on their way, Veronica has been briefed, Mad Dog is rallying the boxing crew, and Charles has instructions on how to download the photographs Betty took on her phone.

It is well after midnight when Jughead finally hangs up the phone. "That was my dad," he reports. "He can't leave Jellybean overnight, but first thing tomorrow he'll be on his way here."

Betty nods. Her cheek is stinging. She could probably use some disinfectant, aloe gel… things her mother always just seemed to have around the house. Things she would never think to buy now that she is on her own.

Mothers. Must be nice to have one.

She sinks down on the couch and closes her eyes. A few moments pass and then the couch dips as Jughead sits down next to her.

"Betty?"

"I'm okay," she says automatically. "I'm…"

"Hey," he says, "we've done all we can. Now we just need to wait."

"I hate thinking about Archie out there alone," Betty murmurs. "Will you try calling him again?"

"I’ve tried, Betty. I tried five times. He isn’t answering.”

"Yeah, and isn't that weird, Jug? Shouldn't we be out there looking for him?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Finally, when he does, his words are halting, "In this case, the reason Archie might not be picking up is because we aren't exactly on speaking terms."

Betty frowns. "Why not?"

There’s another long pause. Then he says, “I'm not sure now is the best time to get into that.”

"Jug."

He hesitates and then stands up. Now it's _his _turn to pace. He shuffles back and forth in front of her, feet dipping into the well-worn carpet. His beanie sits slightly askew on his head.

“We had a… difference of opinion after you left,” he says carefully. “I tried to understand, Betty. I wanted to respect the time you needed. I told myself that if I gave you space to do this… well, maybe you would come back."

"Jug-" she tries again, voice soft, but he holds up a hand and continues to pace.

"Archie, though… he wanted to swoop in and save the day. Be the hero.” His smile is wry as he looks her over. “I guess he was right.”

“Jug,” she says, chest hitching. “That’s not fair. You couldn’t have known.”

“I knew you were investigating them,” he says, his voice hard. “I knew that it was dangerous. I knew you were grieving for your father. I could have… I could have come earlier. I should have been there for you, Betty.”

“Please,” says Betty. She rises to her feet. “I _chose _this, Jug. I _wanted _this.” She turns in a circle and gestures around her. “I wanted to be on my own. Prove to myself that I could do it. It’s not your job to save me and it certainly isn’t Archie’s.”

“_Really_?” says Jughead and now there’s real venom behind his words. He takes a step closer to her. “You call this –” he mirrors her by gesturing around him, “ – looking after yourself?”

“Yes,” says Betty, she takes another step closer to him. “This is on me, Jug. No one else. My choice.”

They’re standing directly in front of each other. Betty looks up at him, her stomach suddenly fluttering. The anger drains from her as she takes in his heavy breathing, the pale sheen on his face. She does the only thing she can. She tilts her face towards his until her lips brush against his.

He hisses out a breath like he’s expelling something from deep inside of him and then one hand is behind her head, drawing her towards him. His lips crash down onto hers and it’s painful at first, she’s still injured, but then the kiss turns gentler. His fingers move through her hair, his hand sliding down her back and he pulls her closer, deepening the kiss, tongue flicking out against hers.

The kiss goes on and on until the pain in her head and her stomach fades, until her apartment around them fades into the background. Her arms wrap around his waist and all she can think about is how _good _it feels, how _Jughead_, and how much she has missed this.

Finally they pull away, both of them panting. Jughead’s forehead comes down to rest on hers, his breath warm against her face. His hands are still in her hair and he makes no move to separate from her. 

“Wow,” she whispers, her stomach still fluttering. She feels like she like she did when they started dating – when he kissed her that first time in her bedroom and her stomach bottomed out and her heart seemed to stop in her chest. Back then even _thinking _about him brought a warm flush to her face and a flutter in her stomach.

“I’ll say,” he says. With reluctance, he says, “Betty, I was… jealous.”

She has no idea what he’s talking about. “Of what?” she says.

“Archie,” he says, voice heavy like he’s admitting a deep and embarrassing secret. “You and Archie.”

“That’s…” she begins. She doesn’t really know _what _that is. She’s still thinking of their kiss. Her lips are still tingling. His hands are still playing with her hair and it is distracting, very distracting. She forces herself to say, “Archie has always been protective.”

He presses his forehead against hers. “You loved him for years, Betty.” He doesn’t sound angry anymore. Instead he sounds relieved, like he’s finally releasing something that has been haunting him for a long time. “I’m not sure that just goes away. Then when I saw what he was like, when he found about you, about the Dragons – I thought he had feelings for you. Maybe he always had, all this time.”

“Archie loves Veronica,” Betty says automatically. Then she shakes her head and pushes on, “Besides, that’s not the point. We’re _friends_, Jug. Best friends. Archie has always looked out for me.”

"I know, I know," says Jughead. He kisses her forehead, then her cheek, and then presses a chaste kiss to her lips before pulling away. "Archie loves Veronica and you're his best friend and I'm crazy and paranoid. Listen, I've told myself all of that over and over." He pauses. "Emotions were running high. Archie and I will patch things up."

Betty still feels stunned. "Jughead." His eyes are tired, but there is a softness in his gaze when he looks at her. "Archie and I are friends. He's always been protective. And even if… whatever you saw, Jug, it doesn’t matter. I love _you_. Nothing has changed that. I ran all the way from Riverdale, changed my _name_, and I still loved you."

Jughead sags and he draws her in close, pressing his chin against her head. "I never doubted that; not really. But it's still nice to hear you say it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the feedback and support so far! More action to come, but I wanted to give Betty and Jughead their moment first. Two more chapters to go.


	6. Chapter 6

Betty and Jughead fall into a restless sleep on the couch. The couch is too short and too narrow for them to both fit comfortably, but neither of them are willing to let the other go. They could have gone to the bedroom, but that feels too much like they are settling in for the night. Something tells her that they need to stay on guard.

It's the early hours of the morning when a noise wakes her up. The noise is muffled – like someone is pounding on the wall through a heavy blanket. Betty sluggishly opens her eyes. Her apartment is dark. Jughead's chest is pressed up against her back and his arms are wrapped around her middle. His breath is heavy in her ear.

The noise comes again - louder this time. Betty elbows Jughead in the side and struggles to sit up. He groans and then says, "What's going on?"

"I don't know," she says. She pushes his arms off her and stands up. She listens carefully. The noise comes again - _thwack _\- and her eyes tick over to the window. Something is hitting the window.

She carefully creeps towards it. With a shaking hand, she slowly pulls the curtains backwards and peers outside.

It's the Dragons. They are standing in a cluster in the street in front of her building. Joe is in the middle and he's flanked on either side by his goons. Next to him is the burly man who found her in his house. He's holding something in his hands. Betty leans forward to try and get a better look, freezing when the burly man elbows Joe and then juts his chin in Betty's direction. Joe nods and says something to the burly man.

Then the burly man brings his arm back and hurls something in Betty's direction. She gasps and ducks down just as the window explodes and then shatters above her head.

From somewhere behind her, she hears Jughead grunt and then swear. Betty keeps her head down, arms protectively covering her face. Glass rains down around her. She winces as bits of glass and screen cut across her hands and back. Finally the glass stops raining down around her, but she doesn't dare stand up from her crouched position.

"Jug?" she calls.

There's a grunt and then he says. "I'm here. I'm fine. You?"

"Good, yeah," says Betty.

She hears footsteps behind her and then he says, "It's a rock. They threw a rock through the window."

"Yeah," says Betty. "So they did."

She needs to stand up. She shuffles from her crouched position to the side of the window and then pushes herself to her feet, pressing her back against the wall behind her. Jughead is in the kitchen. He's holding onto the rock with one hand and in the other he is holding his phone.

Scattered around the living room are shards of glass and broken screen. Next to her, the white curtains flap aimlessly in the wind. Betty is still pressing herself against the wall when another rock comes flying through the window. It whizzes past the curtains, flies through the apartment and then bounces against the fridge before coming to a stop.

Jughead quickly jumps out of the way. "I think they found us," he says. He drops to his hands and knees and does a bear walk over to the couch. He follows the line of the couch to where Betty is pressed up against the wall, carefully avoiding the glass scattered across the floor.

"They found _me_," says Betty. They don't know about Jughead yet. She intends to keep it that way.

"I'm trying to get a hold of Sweetpea," says Jughead, "but I think they’re jamming us, I’ve got no signal."

“No signal,” Betty says. “No way to call the police.”

She winces as another rock flies through the open window, banging heavily onto the floor and then skidding into the kitchen.

From outside, she hears Joe's voice. "TAMMY," he calls. "OH TAMMY. COME OUT NOW, TAMMY."

She and Jughead exchange a look. "Jughead, meet the Dragons."

"You've made such nice friends while you were away, Betty."

"TAMMY," calls Joe again from outside. "OR SHOULD I SAY... BETTY COOPER."

_That's _not good. Betty inches her way back towards the window and then slowly pulls back the curtain so she can peak outside. She strains her neck and keeps the rest of her body along the wall, avoiding any potential path between her and a rock being thrown by the burly man.

What she sees makes her heart sink. They have Archie. His hands are tied behind his back and there is a gag in his mouth. The burly man has pushed Archie down on his knees. One of his hands presses down on Archie’s shoulder. The rest of the Dragons stand in a half circle behind him, Joe in the centre. Archie is shirtless. Even in the poor light, she can see that they've beaten him.

Betty sucks in a breath. She quickly pulls back from the windows and presses herself back up against the wall next to Jughead. "They have Archie."

Jughead's head bangs back against the wall. "Shit."

The word feels almost understated given their situation.

Joe is calling to her again. "BETTY, BETTY COOPER," he singsongs. "I TOLD YOU DIDN'T I. I TOLD YOU WHAT HAPPENS TO LIARS."

She hears a _thud _and a muffled gasp. She can't stop herself from peeking out of the window again. The burly man has Archie down on the ground, his face pressed against the pavement, and the burly man's elbow buried against his back. Archie writhes underneath the burly man, but there is nothing that he can do.

"COME ON, TAMMY," hollers Joe, "YOU KNOW WHO WE ARE REALLY AFTER HERE."

Betty pulls back from the window and leans back against the wall, her heart pounding. "Jug - ” she begins.

"No," he says hotly. "Absolutely not."

"They have Archie."

There's a pause and then Jughead says. "I'll go."

"_You'll _go?" says Betty knowing she sounds hysterical. "They're not after you, Jug. I'm the one they want."

"Which is exactly why you can't - "

There's another noise from outside and Betty peeks through the window again. Archie is down on the ground and the burly man is kicking him in the stomach. Archie moans and groans through the gag in his mouth while the other men cheer.

Betty feels sick to her stomach. Without thinking about it, she pushes the curtains aside and leans out of the window. "STOP," she yells. "JOE, PLEASE. STOP."

The burly man pauses mid kick. He, Joe and the other Dragons stare up at her. From the ground, Archie curls in on himself, his bound hands sticking out behind him.

"Tammy," says Joe. His smile is slow and frightening. "Please. Come down and join us."

She hesitates. _Stall. _Sweetpea and the others are on their way. She needs to stall, has to buy them time. "How did you know where I live?" she calls.

"Oh Tammy," says Joe. He slowly walks towards the building, his neck cricked up to look at her. "Don't you know that I've been keeping tabs on you from the first moment I saw you? Didn't it seem strange to you that no one in this godforsaken town ever bothered you? Ever so much as gave you a wrong glance? That's because of me, Tammy. I did that."

Betty feels shaken as his words sink in. He’s been stalking her, _following _her since almost the first moment she arrived.

Betty glances to where Archie is curled into a ball. She feels tears pricking at her eyes. "Please don't hurt him," she calls down. "Please Joe."

Joe raises his hand to his chin as if he's contemplating her request. "He told me the most fascinating story, Tammy. Turns out, he's here looking for his friend. Betty Cooper, he said. He had pictures. She looks just like you."

Betty swallows. "Joe, I'm sorry. I was on the run - ”

"STOP LYING," he explodes. "YOU ARE DONE LYING TO ME, TAMMY ANDREWS."

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls something out. He holds it up into the light from the nearest street lamp so that Betty has a good look. It's a gun.

"YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES," he yells. "FIVE MINUTES TO GET OUT HERE OR I BLOW YOUR FRIEND'S BRAINS OUT OF HIS HEAD."

Betty yanks herself back from the window and presses herself back up against the wall, breathing hard. "There's a back entrance," she finds herself saying. "Down near the laundry. Take that and wait for Sweetpea and Fangs. Get your phone working. Let Mad Dog know about Archie. It will spur them on."

"You can't seriously be talking about going out there," says Jughead. He is trying to sound calm, but his voice waivers. "They have a gun."

"They also have Archie tied up and beaten half to death," Betty hisses. "Jug, this is my fault. I got in with them. I thought I was clever enough to take them down. So whatever happens next, whatever they do to Archie, that's on me. That's because of me."

"And if you go out there, they are going to shoot you and then Archie."

"He won't kill me," Betty says. "At least… not at first. He'll want answers before he shoots me. I can stall him."

Jughead hisses out a breath. “Nothing you just said is the least bit comforting.”

“They have _Archie_,” Betty says again. “Jug, I have to.”

“Fine,” he says tightly. “Fine. But if you are going out there then I'm going with you."

"You can't," she says. She can't keep the panic out of her voice. "If I show up with you, he's going to be even more suspicious than he is now. Right now they don't know about you. We have to use that, Jug. The only way we get out of this is if we have help. Reinforcements. You need to get the Serpents here." She pauses. "You can only save me if you stay behind."

It's the truth. Jughead drops his head. From outside, Joe is yelling again.

"TWO MINUTES, TAMMY. I'M STARTING TO WONDER IF YOUR BOYFRIEND'S BRAINS WILL MATCH THE COLOUR OF HIS HAIR. WHAT DO YOU THINK?"

"I've got to go," says Betty. She pushes herself off the wall and turns to face Jughead. His hands are curled into fists at his sides and his face looks pale under his beanie. "Remember, go out the back stairs. I'll stall as long as I can. They'll get here soon. I know they will."

From outside, Joe yells, "ONE MINUTE."

Jughead punches the wall behind him, but he only says. "Be careful."

Betty nods. Then she turns and heads out the door.

****

Outside the night is cool and windy. Betty has changed from her dress into jeans and a sweatshirt, but she still shivers in the wind. She approaches the gang slowly, eyes shifting from Joe, to the burly man, and then to the others. She counts nine of them in total.

Her eyes tick to Archie. He's still on the ground, his face pressed against the asphalt of the parking lot and the burly man's knee digging into his back. He's groaning against the gag in his mouth and squirms, his tied up hands dancing uselessly in the air behind him. Up close, Betty can see that he is in even worse shape than she thought - his chest is covered in bruises and his face is swollen and misshapen.

Tears spring to her eyes and she hurriedly looks away from him. Instead, her eyes find Joe. She raises her hands in the air to show that she has nothing - no weapons, no backup, no phone.

Joe looks her up and down and then twirls the gun lazily in his hand. He doesn't seem remorseful about what he's done to Archie. He doesn't seem at all concerned that he is threatening both their lives out in the open where there could be witnesses. In fact, he seems to be _enjoying _himself.

Betty is suddenly reminded of one her classmates from the fourth grade, Brock, who was bigger and stronger than all the other kids in their school. From the first day of school, he had targeted Betty to pick on. He was always trying to chase her in the playground. He would pull on her hair, take her lunches, and try and pull down her pants. Archie had been her protector and Brock was scared enough of Archie that he never bothered Betty when Archie was by her side. But as soon as Archie was out of sight, Brock would zero in on her. He seemed to enjoy the thrill that he was bigger than her and could intimate her so easily. It finally ended when Brock and Archie came to blows in the playground after school - Archie won the fight and Brock transferred out of Riverdale soon after that.

Betty had loved Archie powerfully for that back then.

Here he is, all these years later, still throwing himself into the line of fire for her, still trying to save her and be the hero. Her heart twists. She meant what she said to Jughead. She is not in love with Archie anymore, but he is still her best friend and she will _not_ him die for her.

"Bold of you," she says to Joe. "Out in the open like this. You must have woken half the block. Someone will call the police."

He snorts. "Tammy, this is Dragon territory. These people are ours. No one will call the police on us."

She thinks about what he said earlier, about how he had been keeping tabs on her from the moment they first met. She remembers the night that she met Brian at the Screamin' Beans - he had been so nervous that night, so panicked that someone was watching. That should have scared her more than it did. What is wrong with her that she can so nonchalantly dive into this kind of danger? Why did she think she could handle it on her own?

"Joe," she says pleadingly. "We can talk about this. Please just put the gun away."

Joe snorts. He twirls the gun again and then points it in Archie's direction before slowly raising it towards Betty. "I told you before, Tammy. I don't like being lied to." He juts his chin towards Archie. "We overheard an interesting tale from your boyfriend here. He's looking for this cute blonde, see. This girl from Riverdale. Says her name is Betty. Betty Cooper. Says she left their town about a month ago and that she is in some kind of danger."

_Oh Archie_. So like him to charge in after her without thinking. She can't bear to look at him. Looking at his beaten face makes her want to crumble to her knees. She can't do that now. She has to keep Joe talking. She has to give the Serpents more time.

"I can explain," Betty says hurriedly. Her mind is working furiously. How can she explain? _What _can she explain? _The truth. _A truth is always better than a lie. "I'm the daughter of the Black Hood," she bursts out. "Riverdale's most notorious serial killer. I ran away, Joe. I took a new name. I didn't want anyone to know who I was. I needed a fresh start."

"You expect me to believe that?" Joe demands. He points the gun towards the ground and pulls the trigger. Betty flinches as it goes off, the bullet lodging into the pavement. "You're working for someone. You've been sent here to spy on us. That's why you were snooping around. That's why you've been asking your questions -"

"No!" says Betty. "It's the truth. Look him up - Hal Cooper, my dad. The Black Hood. You can read all about it - him, his daughter, Betty, and his wife Alice - just google it. That's all you have to do."

_And_, she thinks, _they’ll have to stop the cell phone jammer to do it. _

Joe hesitates and then nods. One of his goons behind him pulls out a phone and starts scrolling. A few moments pass and then the man says, "Boss, I think she's telling the truth. It's all on there, like she says. The Black Hood - he's got two daughters - Polly Cooper and Betty Cooper. There's even a family picture." He holds the phone out to Joe.

Joe turns to look at the picture. He studies it on the screen and then ticks his eyes to Betty and then back to the picture. Slowly he lowers the gun. "I heard about the Black Hood. We all did."

The Dragons around Joe nod. Betty's heart is beating quickly. She needs to keep up the charade.

  
"Everyone in Riverdale knew who I was," she says. She keeps her hands in the air and tries to look as nonthreatening as possible. "I just wanted to start over. Another chance. Then when I met you… I wanted to tell you, I did, but I was afraid how you were going to react. The things my dad did.... I knew it would change the way you looked at me."

"I would have protected you," says Joe. "That's all I've ever wanted to do, Tammy. From the first moment I met you."

"It sounds like that's what you did," Betty says, gesturing around her. _With or without my consent. _"I take it I have you to thank for the deal I got on this apartment?"

Joe shrugs. "This is Dragon territory, like I said." Then he gestures towards Archie's prone form on the ground. "And _him_?"

"A friend," says Betty. "He was just looking out for me. You can understand."

Joe is hesitating - softening, and that's good - that's very, very good. If she can just keep talking to him, keep talking him down then they have a shot at getting out of this.

She barely finishes the thought when an engine revs. Headlights flood over them and the Dragons turn - behind them is a motorcycle, its high beams blaring over them. Betty squints as the figure on the motorcycle revs the engine again.

It's Jughead.

Betty's heart sinks. _No_, she thinks. _No, no, no_.

Jughead's voice rings out: "Dragons, you are surrounded! My name is Jughead Jones - King of the Serpents. Let them go and we can all walk away from this!"

Betty feels a surge of hope - maybe Sweetpea, Fangs and the rest have made it - but she doesn't see anyone else behind Jughead. In fact, other than the Dragons, Archie, herself and Jughead - they are completely alone.

The Dragons look at each other and then burst out laughing. "The _Serpents_?" says the burly man. "We've heard about you, boy. You're nothing more than a teenage club."

"Heard you turned tail," calls someone else. "That you gone _soft _\- heard you work for the local lawman now."

Jughead revs the engine on his motorcycle again. "You are _surrounded_," he yells again. "Don't make a mistake. We can all walk away from this!"

"_Enough_," hisses Joe.

Out of the corner of her eye, Betty can see him raising the gun. He's pointing it towards Jughead. Panic surges through her. She moves without thinking. Her legs carry her faster than she thought possible. Suddenly she's running then _barrelling _into Joe's back. The gun goes off - firing into the air - and then he lands heavily on the ground. Betty is on top of him. Her elbow smashes against the ground. Pain explodes down her arm, but she doesn't let that slow her down. She scrambles on top of him, knees digging into his back, and she throws herself towards the arm holding the gun. He struggles and swears underneath her, but her hands grab the gun. Fast as she can, she pushes herself to her feet, holding the gun in front of her and pointing it towards his head.

Her elbow screams at her in pain and her arm shakes with the exertion of holding the gun upwards. But she stays planted. The Dragons are all frozen to the spot, looking from Betty to Joe and back again.

"TELL YOUR MEN TO BACK OFF," she hollers.

Joe looks up at her from his position on the ground. He looks furious. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I _will _shoot you," Betty says. To the Dragons, she calls: "You now know who I am. Betty Cooper. Daughter of Hal Cooper, notorious serial killer. I swear to god, if any of you take one step towards me, _I will kill him_."

Joe flinches. Some of the anger in his face drains away to fear. He places his hands on the ground and tries to push himself upwards. "Tam - Betty, listen we can work this out -”

"_Don't move_," Betty hisses. Joe freezes. "I said, TELL YOUR MEN TO BACK OFF."

"Okay, okay," says Joe. He holds out his hands towards her. Then, his eyes never leaving hers, he says, "Dragons, do as the lady says. Fall back."

The pain in Betty's elbow is rocketing up and down her arm. But she keeps the gun on Joe's face. She does not move. "Jug," she calls out. "Get Archie."

The engine on Jughead’s motorcycle comes on. He drives around the group and then pulls to a stop next to Archie. The Dragons back away to give him space. The motorcycle turns off and Jughead quickly scrambles to undo Archie’s bound hands and remove the gag from his mouth.

"Hey man,” Jughead says, “I've got you. It's okay."

Archie looks like he’s in daze as Jughead bends over, arm going under Archie’s shoulder so he can lift Archie to his feet. He stumbles, but then Archie finds his footing, leaning heavily against Jughead.

Betty's heart is pounding. The Dragons are still backing up and Joe is scrambling backwards along with the rest of them. She moves to Archie and Jughead and then steps in front of them, still holding the gun in front of her and pointed at Joe.

She needs an exit plan. But the options are slim. They have a gun and one motorcycle. The motorcycle will hold two of them, but not three. The gun is holding the Dragons back for now, but they are hopelessly outnumbered. Eventually the Dragons are going to test her to see if she is really willing to use it. 

"Jug," she says without turning around. "Get Archie out of here."

"I'm sorry?"

His voice sounds close. She can sense more than see him come up alongside her. She says, "Get Archie on the bike and get out of here."

It's Archie who answers. "Forget it, Betty. Have you _seen _these guys? We're not leaving you alone with them."

She almost smiles at the sound of his voice. He sounds coherent, _alive _\- like he'll be okay. "Good to have you back, Arch. Jug, is he walking?"

"_Yes_," says Archie at the same time as Jughead says, "_Poorly_."

"That's what I was worried about," says Betty. "Just how far will we get if we turn tail and run away?"

"I'd say about a block," Jughead says.

"Exactly," says Betty, "so get on that bike and get out of here."

"_Not without you_," says Jughead between clenched teeth. "Sorry Betty."

Out of the corner of her eye, Betty sees one of the Dragons taking a step towards them. It's the burly man. Without taking time to think about it, she pulls down the trigger of the gun. She misses Joe - but not by much. The bullet whizzes by him close enough that he shouts and tries to scramble backwards out of the way.

"NOT ANOTHER STEP," Betty hollers. "ANYONE ELSE WANT TO TEST ME?"

None of the Dragons answer. But they don't move either.

Betty takes a breath. "Okay, here's what we're going to do," she says. "I'm going to count to 10. By the time I'm done counting, I want all of you gone. Off this street. Out of this neighbourhood. I'm going to shoot anyone who is left behind."

"We're gonna find you, blondie," says the burly man. "You won't be able to hide from us."

"ONE," Betty hollers. Joe staggers to his feet and takes a limping half-run, half-stride away from them. "TWO." The burly man grabs Joe under the arm and starts to pull him away. "THREE - "

Suddenly, before Betty can continue her count, a caravan of black, SUV cars swerve around the block and head towards them at high speeds. She counts at least six vehicles. They all have tinted windows and bright headlights. Tires squeal as the vehicles pull to stop in a circular formation, boxing them in with the Dragons.

Betty keeps the gun trained on Joe, but her arm starts to shake. "Jug, what's going on?"

“I don’t know,” he says, voice sounding panicked. She sneaks a quick glance at him. He's got an arm around Archie's waist. Archie's chest and face are still an angry red colour, but he is mostly standing on his own.

The doors to the SUVs open and men and women wearing green flack jackets and blue coats spill out of the vehicles. The flack jackets are emblazed with the FBI logo. The agents quickly pull their badges and swarm around the Dragons, holding on to handcuffs.

"This is the FBI," says a woman's voice, "you are under arrest for the sale and supply of a banned substance. You have the right to remain silent."

Betty watches the scene play out in front of her in a daze. Her elbow is throbbing painfully, but she won’t lower the gun – she can’t lower the gun. 

Archie's voice cuts into the fog. "The FBI? But how did…?"

"It must be Charles,” says Jughead, and he sounds buoyant. “Betty and I – we were in touch with him earlier – he must have had time to get a force together.”

As if cued, Charles jumps out of the front seat of one of the vehicles. He strides towards them, black coat flapping in the wind.

"Hey Betty," he says, approaching her with caution, his hands held out in front of him. "Nice gun you’ve got there.”

Betty blinks at him and then at the gun in her hands. Her mind is furiously trying to catch up to the scene playing out in front of her. They’re here – the FBI – just like what she and Jughead wanted. But she feels frozen in place like she has wooden stumps where her arms used to be. Slowly, she forces herself to lower her arms until the gun is pointing to the ground at her feet.

Charles quickly pulls on gloves, takes the gun from her fingertips, and bags it. "One of theirs, I imagine," he says mildly.

Betty can only nod.

“So,” says Charles, looking between her, to Jughead, to Archie, and then back to Betty again. “Have you kids done anything exciting since the last time we spoke?”

Archie grunts, still leaning heavily against Jughead. “We were doing fine on our own,” he says defensively. “Betty had their gun and we were just about to, uh…”

“Run away,” Jughead supplies.

“Uh huh,” says Charles. “Archie looks like he would have got really far on that plan.” Then he sobers and says, “This is dangerous stuff that you kids got mixed up in.”

Betty feels like she is seeing Charles through a thick fog. She blinks rapidly and then hugs her arms close to her chest, her elbow throbbing. “How…?”

“It was good intel that you sent us,” says Charles. “We have been chasing after Pixie Dreams for some time. These dealers are important. Hopefully one of them will turn.”

“Turn?” says Archie. His voice is rasping from the effort of keeping his feet under him. He has one hand on Jughead’s shoulder, but his legs are visibly shaking from the effort of standing.

“He’s going to offer them a deal,” says Jughead slowly. His voice is hard and accusatory. “Information for their freedom.”

Betty glances at Jughead in surprise. His jaw is clenched tightly together and he’s glaring in Charles’ direction. “Is that true?” she says, throat thick. “You’re going to offer them immunity if they talk?”

Charles has the sense to look apologetic. “I’m sorry, Betty,” he says. “But these guys are small fry. If we really want to end this, we have to find their supply chains and cut them down at the source.”

“But…” Betty says. She finds herself blinking back tears. “They _hurt _us. They hurt Archie.”

She looks over at what remains of the Dragons. Most of them are being rounded up and escorted to the SUV vehicles. One of the agents twists Joe’s arms behind his back and then drags him towards one of the black SUVs. Joe sneers in Betty’s direction a he goes by.

“They can’t keep me in for long,” he calls. “And I know who you are now, Betty. Betty Cooper from Riverdale. I will find you.”

The door to the SUV opens and Joe is pushed inside of it. The door closes before he can say anything else.

Charles watches Betty in concern. “I’ll keep him in as long as I can,” he says softly.

“I get it,” she says. “He’s just a bottom feeder. You need information. And he’s the bait.”

Jughead, though, is still glaring at Charles. “If he makes good on that threat then you better hope you’re not the reason he got out.”

“I agree,” Archie pipes up. “He’s dangerous. Look at me, Charles. I’m all the medical evidence you need.”

Charles nods, but Betty can still see the plan written all over his face – he’ll use the intel Betty shared, use it to get more. Bigger names. Break those, too. Find the source. End the supply chain.

It all makes sense. It all makes sense except that Joe just threatened her and his gang beat Archie half to death and he tried to shoot Jughead and none of that is going to matter. If Joe talks then he’ll walk. And Betty knows he’s the type to talk.

“Speaking of you, Archie,” says Charles, “we should get you to a hospital.”

“That’s a good idea,” says Archie, listing heavily against Jughead. “Because I think I’m going to pass out now.’

Sure enough, his head rolls to one side and he starts to collapse, his body going limp.

“Whoa,” says Jughead, straining to hold Archie upright. “Charles, a little help? This is 200 pounds of muscle that’s about to go down. It could put a crater in this road.”

Charles ducks under Archie’s other arm and together they haul Archie to the nearest SUV. Around them, the FBI rounds up the last of the Dragons. Betty’s eyes tick up to her apartment and the broken shards of glass in the window, the curtains flapping uselessly in the wind.

She is betting she won’t be getting her damage deposit back.

Betty turns and follows Charles and Jughead into the SUV.


	7. Chapter 7

Charles needs to leave town and drive for about a half hour to find the nearest hospital. As worried as she is for Archie, Betty only finds herself relaxing once they are out of Dragon territory.

As soon as they arrive at the hospital, Archie is wheeled away on a stretcher. Mad Dog and the Serpents arrive shortly after Archie is triaged. Jughead meets with everyone to bring them up to speed. The Serpents wait in the hospital waiting room, standing awkwardly in a clump and sticking out in their Serpent jackets. Other patients and their family members stare at them openly. Mad Dog sits in one of the seats, body folding in on himself like he is trying to take up as little room as possible.

When a nurse comes in to give them an update, the group folds around her like an overeager and mismatched Addams family.

The nurse provides them with a rundown. Archie has a broken nose. Three cracked ribs. A mild concussion. Numerous soft tissue injuries.

The nurse explains that they are giving him something for the pain, but Betty stops listening after that. _He’s okay_, she thinks over and over. _He’s okay. He’s going to be okay._

Betty barely has time to call Veronica and give her a breathless update before the same nurse drags her away for her own assessment. Nothing is broken, but she swallows two Tylenols and receives a sling for her elbow.

After she is patched up, the nurse takes her to see Archie. He’s in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. Other than Archie, the room is empty. The quiet feels strange after the chaos in the waiting room. In the hall, she can hear the beeping of the intercom and the padding of the nurses’ clogs as they rush along the hall.

Given all the people in the waiting room, Betty is surprised to find Archie on his own. But she isn’t complaining. Every part of her feels limp and worn out. Every step feels like she is caught in a rushing river, pushing up against the flow of water with the river’s current roaring in her ears.

There is a plastic chair next to Archie’s bedside. She takes a seat and then lifts herself up to drag the chair closer to Archie’s bed. The chair makes a scraping noise across the floor and Archie stirs, but he does not wake up.

Other than the IV, there is no other equipment hooked up to him. There’s a bandage covering his nose and it makes a whistling noise when he breathes.

Betty looks around the room – they’re still alone – and then she kicks off her shoes and pulls her legs up so that her legs are folded underneath her body. Bright sunlight spills in through the window, warming her face. Her eyes feel heavy and the room is swimming around her. A part of her wants to stay awake and watch over him. What if she drifts off and the Dragons come back? Archie is vulnerable right now – broken and bruised and high on those pain medications. She has to watch out for him. 

But it is a losing battle. Betty’s eyes flutter shut and her neck cricks over to one side, coming to rest on the back of the chair.

She falls into a restless slumber. She is still aware of the toing and froing out in the hall and the noisy, harried beeping of a hospital packed full of patients. She can hear Archie’s whistled snoring in the distance.

Time passes. She doesn’t know how long she stays like that – dozing, but not quite asleep. Finally, she senses that Archie’s snoring has stopped, and she opens her eyes to find him awake and staring at her.

He smiles sleepily when she opens her eyes.

“Hey,” he says gently, his words slightly slurred.

_Must be the pain meds_. Betty shifts and then winces as she stretches out her neck, unfolding her legs.

“Hi yourself,” Betty says.

He blinks at her and then points a finger in her direction. “You got something on your elbow.”

Betty glances at the sling around her arm before turning back to Archie. “Yeah,” she says, “but I’m okay. I got it all fixed up.”

Archie’s eyes are concerned as he looks her up and down. “I’m glad you’re okay, Betty. I was worried. Did Jughead tell you that I was worried?”

“Yeah, Arch, he told me.”

Archie smiles broadly. “You’re my best friend, Betty. You know that?”

“I do. You’re my best friend, too.”

“You and Jughead,” says Archie with a nod. “Hey, is Jughead here? Betty, I shouldn’t tell you this, but we had a _fight_. I’m not mad anymore though.” He screws up his face. “Everyone just needs to come back home where it is safe.”

Betty doesn’t exactly equate “safe” with Riverdale. But she only says, “Arch, that thing you did back there? It was… incredibly brave. Stupid, but brave.” She pauses and then adds, more sadly, “We’re lucky they didn’t kill you.”

“Takes more than that to bring down an Andrews man,” says Archie, still smiling. “Once you have faced a bear, Dragons are nothing.”

Betty smiles but she does not share his optimism. She also thinks that he is going to be in a _world _of pain once the pain medications wear off. At least he’ll have Veronica to look after him.

As if summoned, Betty hears the clicking of well polished shoes behind her on the hospital tiles and then Veronica’s voice, “Oh my god, Archiekins, what did they do to you?”

Betty drags her chair out of the way as Veronica rushes by her, a whirlwind in a black overcoat and sweet perfume.

“I’m okay, Ronnie,” says Archie. “Didn’t you hear me? Fought ‘em off with my bare knuckles.”

“I heard that you tried to take on that gang yourself, you _idiot_,” Veronica hisses. She spares a glance in Betty’s direction. Her forehead is creased into a worried frown. “You don’t look too good yourself, Betty.”

“I’ll be okay,” says Betty. She rises to her feet unsteadily and then bends down to put her shoes back on. “Look after him, okay?”

“That’s what I do,” says Veronica. Betty nods, but before she can leave, Veronica grabs her hand. “You know,” she says with a sad smile, “you’re not the only one who feels abandoned by their parents these days.”

Betty blinks at Veronica and then over to Archie who has his head cocked to the side and his eyes half-closed with sleep.

Betty feels like she is treading on delicate ground. “I know that the last few months haven’t been easy for you,” she starts delicately. “But –”

“My mother tried to have my father murdered. And much as it pains me to admit it, she was not entirely without reasons for doing so. Now both of them are in prison. So, yes, I know a few things about what it’s like to be our age and parentless. I know what it’s like to turn off the lights at night and feel utterly and completely alone.”

Veronica doesn’t say it with malice, but like she is simply running through the facts.

Archie is watching Veronica intently. “You’re not alone,” he says. “Ronnie, I promise you, you will never be alone.”

“Oh Archie, I know that I will always have you,” Veronica sighs. She sits down in the chair that Betty had abandoned. “Of course I don’t doubt that. But still…” she looks up at Betty. “I know a few things about what you’re going through. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

Betty blinks at her, suddenly feeling ashamed. Had she even asked Veronica how she was coping since her parents were arrested? _No, not once_. She had been grieving for her father, and then there was the funeral, and then she left town….

“You’re right,” Betty whispers. The words feel inadequate. “You’ve been going through all of that and I wasn’t… I should have been there for you.”

“Hey,” says Veronica. “I know we can’t understand what it was like to have your father be the Black Hood but… it’s like Archie said, you’re not alone. You have us.”

“I know that,” Betty says. “I’m sorry I left, V.”

“That’s alright,” says Veronica. “You did what you had to do. Now go.” She waves a hand in a shooing motion. “Find Jughead. He’s barely survived the last month without you.”

Betty does not need to be told twice. She nods and then goes in search of Jughead. She finds him in the waiting room with Fangs, Sweetpea, and the rest of the Serpents. Mad Dog seems to have disappeared. Gone back to Riverdale? Although Betty thinks he would want to see Archie first. As she gets closer, she hears Jughead and Sweetpea hissing at each other in low hushed tones. _On second thought, _Betty amends silently, _maybe Mad Dog needed a breather from the rest of the Serpents._

Betty marches up to Jughead’s side. “Hey,” she interrupts.

Sweetpea and Fangs both glance over at her. Neither of them say ‘hi’ back. Instead they look at her coldly. Betty flushes. Serpent Queen or not, she has a feeling that they are seeing her now only as the girl who left their best friend behind.

Betty tries to force a smile, but their stony expressions don’t change. Finally, she turns to Jughead and says, “Can we talk?”

He sighs tiredly. “We were kind of in the middle of something.”

But Sweetpea says, “Nah, it’s cool. We were just about to head back to Riverdale. We don’t like to leave the Sheriff for too long to run things on his own.”

Sweetpea and Fangs angle their bodies so that it is clear they are only addressing Jughead.

Betty clears her throat and says. “As soon as Archie is cleared, we’ll head back too.”

“Are you sure about that, Princess?” says Sweetpea. _Now _he’s looking at her. “I heard there are some gangs up in Canada you could join.”

Jughead sighs and rubs at his forehead. “Sweetpea, don’t.”

Sweetpea raises his hands. “Hey, man, just stating the facts. I don’t want to go on pretending we’re not all here because _she _– ” he casts a dark glance in Betty’s direction, “stuck her nose into someone else’s business.”

“They were selling drugs to _kids_,” Betty hisses furiously. “I know you’re mad at me right now for leaving Jughead and that’s fine, be mad, but the Serpents would never do that.”

Sweetpea folds his arms over his chest. “It was someone else’s territory. Not our problem.”

He and Fangs exchange a look and then Fangs falls into lockstep with Sweetpea, making it clear where he too stands on the issue.

Jughead is still rubbing at his forehead. In a worn voice, he says, “Fangs, Sweetpea, this is not helping. Go home. _Please_.”

Fangs and Sweetpea continue to eye Betty suspiciously, but all Fangs says is, “Are you sure you don’t need an escort? There could be more of them still out there.”

“Thanks man,” says Jughead. “We’ll be okay. We have the FBI looking out for us.”

Fangs gives him a little salute and then he, Sweetpea, and the rest of the Serpents gather up their things and head for the exit.

Betty turns to Jughead. His face is pale and exhausted under the harsh hospital lighting. There are dark circles under his eyes. She knows he’s barely had any sleep. But his exhaustion is more than that. He seems heavier, weighed down.

She opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, Charles interrupts them. He strides into the waiting room, coat flapping around his knees.  
  
“Betty,” he says with urgency. “I’d like to interview you now. It’s best to do it while the memories are still fresh. Jughead, you don’t mind?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Of course not. I’ll check on Archie.”

Betty reaches out a hand to say goodbye, but her fingers close around empty space. He’s already walking away.

“I’ll see you later,” she murmurs to his retreating back

***

Charles takes her into an empty hospital room for their interview. Betty does not hold anything back. She provides as many details as she can about Joe, the Dragons, and Pixie Dreams. She also tells Charles about what happened when Joe and the burly man caught her lurking in the spare room. She lays out in detail what they did to Archie. She tells them about how Joe held her at gunpoint.

From the look on Charles’ face, she knows it will not change his mind. The plan is still to trade Joe his freedom in return for information.

“I’ll keep him locked up as long as I can,” says Charles.

“And when he’s free, if he tries to kill me – what then?”

Charlie sighs. “Betty, I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but he is going to be a different man when we let him go. The only way he goes free is if he throws everyone above him under the bus. When he is released, he’s going to be friendless and alone.”

“He has parents in Canada,” says Betty. “Wealthy, connected parents. What are you and your FBI going to do about that?”

Charles does not have a good answer. “What you got us is good intel, Betty. We’re coordinating with the RCMP. They are not just going to get away with this.”

Betty snorts. “It will take too long. They’ll know what’s happened to their son. They will hide their tracks.”

“I know it seems unfair, Betty,” Charles says. His voice is heavy. “And I don’t want to excuse anything that Joe and the Dragons have done, but there are bigger targets here. We have to take this chance.”

“Will I get a warning at least? You know, when you set him free.”

“Betty…”

“Will you?” says Betty sharply. “You heard him, Charles. He’s not going to rest until he finds me.” Betty leans towards Charles and speaks in a low, calm voice. “I used him. I used him and then I stole from him and then I called the cops on him. What kind of mood do you think he’s going to be in when he’s free?”

“I’ll protect you.”

“You can’t promise that,” says Betty. “You barely even know me.”

Charles pinches the bridge of his nose. She can tell that she aggravates him. For some reason, Charles makes her feel like a moody teenager. He tolerates her, but she feels like a part of him wants to pat her on the head and tell her that she’ll understand everything when she’s older.

She can hear the forced patience in his voice. “I am trying to get to know you, Betty. More than that, I _want _to know you. You and Jughead. You’re not just going to be left on your own when he gets out. I promise.”

Betty holds his gaze. “You’re right. I’ll have Jug. My friends. But I’m not counting on the FBI.”

“Maybe I can prove you wrong.”

“We’ll see,” Betty murmurs. Then she says, “There is something that you could do now.”

“What’s that?”

“With Archie in the condition he’s in, well… we could use the FBI’s help getting home.”

***

It is almost evening by the time they get going. Charles somehow manages to get his hands on a van. Archie is spread out across the first row of seats in the back. He is wrapped in a hospital blanket. The nurses gave him another round of meds before discharging him and he falls immediately into a heavy, drug-induced sleep. Veronica sits up front in the passenger seat. Betty and Jughead are in the very back of the van.

Conversation is light and perfunctory. They confirm where they are going – the Lodge’s to drop off Veronica and Archie and then the Jones’ house for Betty and Jughead. Every few minutes, Veronica murmurs directions to Charles.

It’s not long before Archie’s snores fill the van.

Betty glances at Jughead. He is studiously staring out the window as empty and darkening corn fields whizz past them. He has barely spoken to her since they left.

But he did tell Charles that Betty would be going home with him.

She glances down at her lap and flexes the fingers of her left hand against her knee. She wants to reach for his hand. But she isn’t sure that he would welcome the gesture.

“Jug,” she whispers.

He turns to look at her. Even in the fading light, she can see how tired he is. It’s probably not the time for a heart-to-heart. They have barely slept in… a really long time.

“Are you okay?” she says.

“Yeah,” he says and then he immediately sighs, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Actually, no. I’m not okay, Betty. I haven’t been okay all summer. Not since…”

“I left,” she whispers.

He nods, jaw clenching together. His eyes are still closed. “You know,” he says – and now there’s a bite of anger in his words. “You made me feel like I could get through anything. My mom… the Gargoyles… if I could survive that, I could survive anything as long as I had you.”

“Jug – ”

He opens his eyes and turns to look at her. “It kills me that it isn’t the same for you.”

“It’s not like that,” she hisses. “Jug, my dad – the Black Hood – he’s _part _of me. My mom, and Polly, they tried to tell me… I’m not like them. And I’m not like you, and Archie, and Veronica. I’m like _him_. I couldn’t be near you. I couldn’t be near any of you.”

Jughead’s gaze suddenly goes from angry to saddened. “Betty,” he says gently. “Come on, you have to know that isn’t true.”

“But it _is,_” she says. “Look at me – I’m gone, what, a month and I jump in practically with the first gang that came along. I knew how dangerous it was,” she whispers furiously. “And I rushed in anyway. What does that make me?”

“Self-destructive. Thrill seeking. Hell, even curious. It does not make you a murderer.”

“But I _feel _him,” Betty says. She holds her left hand up to her chest and thumps it against her heart. “In here. He’s in me, Jug.”

“So what?” says Jughead, his voice rising. Charles glances at them in the rear-view mirror and Jughead immediately lowers his voice back to a whisper. “We’re not our parents, Betty. Is Veronica doomed to become a mob boss because her father happens to be Hiram Lodge?”

She hesitates. “No.”

“Am I going to end up like my father – an alcoholic, barely able to hold down a job?”

“Of course not,” she whispers.

“Then what makes you different?”

She looks away. “My own mother is frightened of me. She sees him in me. My own mother, Jug.”

“Yeah, well, she’s insane.”

“Jug –”

“She is. Look –” she hears his seatbelt unbuckle and then he’s sliding across the seats, closing the distance between them. His hand is on her thigh. “Betty, I like to think that I know you better than anyone. Don’t you think you could trust me to tell you if I thought you were in danger of becoming a serial killer?”

His voice is part-teasing, part serious. But it’s enough to bring a smile to her face. “Yeah,” she whispers. “I guess I could.” She turns to look at him. He’s suddenly so close to her. “I really am sorry that I left.”

“I know,” he says. Then he takes a shuddering sigh. “If I’m being honest, I’m less upset about the fact that you left and more upset about the fact that – ”

“I walked headlong into a messed up, very dangerous situation?”

“Yeah.”

His face is suddenly very close to hers. It’s dark now in the van and lights and shadows pass over his face as they pass oncoming traffic.

“I’ll get help,” she whispers. “Once we’re back in Riverdale, I’ll see someone.”

He looks relieved. “Okay.” His face is still very near to hers. He glances towards the front of the van and then back to her. “I really want to kiss you now, but I have to say that being driven home in a van by our shared half-brother is kind of a turnoff.”

“Yep,” says Betty.

He settles for wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She leans her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. Finally, lulled by the sway of the van, and Jughead’s body pressed against hers, she lets herself drift off to sleep.

***

It’s late at night when Charles drops them off in front of the Jones’ house. Betty and Jughead walk up to the house arm in arm.

Her mind drifts to what she left behind in her apartment upstate. Some clothes, a handful of pictures, and toiletries. She’s not going back for them now. She’ll need a new phone.

_Shoot_. And she straight up and left her position at the Screamin’ Beans. Tammy Andrews is _not _going to get a good reference for that job.

“Have the stairs to this house always been this steep?” Jughead says, leaning heavily on her as they take the stairs one at a time.

She snorts. The nap in the van had been nice, but they are still _tired_. “Nope,” she says. “The house shifted since we left. It’s the only explanation.”

They make it to the front door. Jughead turns the lock in the door and pushes it open. They stumble through the threshold and then pause at the base of the stairs up to the bedrooms.

As nice as it is to be home, she’s struck all over again by how weird it is to be in a house that’s hers, but not hers.

“Okay, Cooper,” says Jughead. “We have no choice. If we want to sleep, we have to make it up there.” They both eye the stairs with trepidation. Finally, Jughead sighs and takes her hand. “I’ll go first. I’ll try and drag you as much as I can. But I want you to remember this incredible display of chivalry later.”

Betty snickers, but then tugs on his hand to bring him to a stop. “Jug, before we go up there… I’ll stay over tonight, but then after that, I have to go.”

He stops on the first step, his entire body going ridged. “Go?” he says, his voice coming out as a slightly choked sound.

_Oh dear_. Wrong choice of words. “Oh no,” she says quickly. “Not go, _go _– I meant, I can’t stay here, Jug. Not permanently.”

“Why not?” he says. “It’s your house.”

“It’s _your _house,” she corrects him. “Your house and your dad’s house and… Jellybean’s house. You heard Joe as he was getting arrested. Sooner or later he’s going to be free and he is going to come after me. And if that happens, it can’t be in the same house where Jellybean lives.”

Jughead looks stricken. His jaw works, but she can tell that he doesn’t have a good response to her. “Where will you go?” he finally says.

“Veronica’s,” she says. “At least, to start. And then… maybe on my own. I have enough money for rent.”

“On your own?” Jughead parrots back. “With those guys out there looking for you?”

“I would get all the latest in security,” says Betty. “Charles can help with that. And hopefully, I mean… I hope that I wouldn’t be there on my own all the time….”

He’s staring at her, eyes widening. “Wait a moment,” he says, holding up a hand. “Betty Cooper, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Well, Veronica and Archie would be welcome anytime – ”

She muffles a shriek as Jughead wraps her in his arms and lifts her up in the air. “The answer is ‘yes,’” he says into her hair.

“I haven’t even asked the question yet,” she grouses against his shirt. He smells musty and sweaty and worn out, but something undefinably _him_. “We’re only 17,” she says. “This is crazy.”

“Well if you can’t live here and you can’t live alone then we really have no other choice,” says Jughead brightly. “Now come on,” he says. “I’m so tired that I could sleep right here.”

“Not without appeal,” says Betty.

“We can do it,” says Jughead. He releases her and holds out a hand. “Together?”

She grasps his hand, lips curling up into a smile. “Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has read, left a Kudos, and/or left a comment. I really enjoyed stepping back into the fic world with this one and I hope some of you enjoyed it too. As we get underway with season 4, please feel free to follow me on tumblr: https://go-ldy.tumblr.com/. I don't think S4 will be remotely like Jagged Edges, but I certainly plan to enjoy it! Cheers.


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